


Of the Nature of Magic and Magical Beings

by Solea



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Newt Scamander, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Developing Friendships, Dorks in Love, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Male Friendship, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Multi, New Creatures, New Spells, Newt Scamander Needs a Hug, Newt is a Dork, Nudity, POV Credence Barebone, POV Newt Scamander, Past Abuse, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Protective Credence Barebone, Protective Newt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solea/pseuds/Solea
Summary: Newt sets himself a task: find Credence Barebone, or whatever is left of him, and help him however he can.  As usual, simple sounding tasks are often the most difficult, and this particular task raises a lot of questions about the nature of magic and magical beings, both human and inhuman.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. Tags will be added as they become relevant.
> 
> I take full responsibility for my butchering of Latin and shamelessly crappy spoonerisms.

The shattered remains of the house that had sheltered the Second Salemers hid behind a magically re-created facade. Objectively, Newt could admit that the complexity and thoroughness of the enchantment was impressive. It had clearly been the work of aurors expert in the art of hiding awful truths in plain sight.

From the outside, it appeared to be a perfectly normal, if not run down, row home on a busy corner of manhattan. But any witch or wizard would be able to detect the slight flaws in the facade and, even if they couldn't, they’d be able to feel the warning of a MACUSA crime scene deterrent floating around the perimeter of the building. 

That enchantment had truly nasty origins. Theseus had spoken about how it had been developed in Britain during the war- a controllable, spatially-specific charm that took inspiration from the bogart- using the ugliest thoughts and feelings of magical and non-magical passersby to instill a sense of wrongness and dread in them. Used constantly in Azkaban, it wore the inhabitants of a charmed cell down to emotional tatters, readying them for questioning. 

After the war, MACUSA adopted it and dumbed it down, their aurors using it as a deterrent to keep undesired attention away from crime scenes. 

Newt shuddered in the grip of the enchantment as he loitered outside the doorway, waiting for his chance to enter the house without any muggles noticing and scanning for patrolling Aurors at the same time. Though, it was unlikely that there were any Aurors keeping watch over the last known home of the most powerful obscurus known to man. They’d be far too preoccupied with their new toy-- Gellert Grindelwald, who had pulled the wool over the eyes of the highest level wizards and witches in America for months. A tiny curl of amusement fought its way through the charmed miasma of misery. They rather deserved each other, MACUSA and Grindelwald. 

However, Grindelwald’s appearance and the furor it caused provided Newt with just the right distraction he needed to pursue his latest quest. He’d firmed up his alibi, allowing Tina to see him as he got on the ship, but carefully avoiding her as he meandered down the opposite gang plank. He had never intended to stay in New York for any period of time. He still didn’t, but he had absolutely no intention of leaving whatever was left of the obscurus he’d sighted unprotected in the same city as Grindelwald. 

There was a lull in foot traffic and, with one last quick glance around for Aurors, he tamped down on the enchanted revulsion and slipped through the door, which had already been unlocked for him by Norah, one of Picket’s sibling bowtruckles. Picket still refused to look at him let alone help him in his endeavors. 

Norah now clung to the underside of his lapel as he gasped and staggered against the splintered wood of an interior wall as the door swung shut behind him. 

He’d expected the Angstere charm to dissipate once he’d crossed the perimeter, but instead he was rendered helplessly immobile in the grip of constricting, sickening grief and fear. His case slipped from nerveless fingers as he sunk to his knees. A clasp popped. It should matter, but it didn’t.

They’d be better off without him, if they got out—these creatures he had nurtured and cared for and loved— all of them had nearly been ripped away from him in moments by an evil man at the helm of an unfeeling bureaucracy, and he’d been powerless to stop it. 

And Tina— who should have been his friend— she’d delivered him to that despicable organization, had trapped him and placed him and all those innocents for whom he was responsible on the altar of her own ambition as a sacrifice; the latest of a string of people who had used him— wrung out every ounce of everything he had to give before tossing him away, just as they did to the creatures they did not understand or care for. 

How could anything matter in a world where one can’t behold one beautiful creature without thinking about how precious few of them left there were and how soon there would be none? 

Despair became a real, tangible force, a weight that crushed his chest and filled his limbs with lead. He stared, wide eyed, into the gloom of the ruined house. The pile of wood that had been the second and third story floors before Credence had shattered his home and killed his mother and sibling in helpless rage loomed against the opposite wall stretching upwards into the dim recesses of the house.

How could anything matter in a world where a young man could be tortured for years by someone who should have loved him and cared for him— only to be blown to bits by the people who should have helped him the most? Just like that little girl from whom he’d torn an obscurus. He hadn’t been able to save her either...worthless, stupid and helpless as he was.

Newt’s lungs fought the unbearable weight enough to let loose a sob that jerked his body so hard that he doubled up and pitched forward onto the ground. Against the ceiling high above him, a shadow writhed and seethed. 

There was no thrill of accomplishment at having been right- at having sensed that the obscurus- that Credence- would have returned home even though that place represented nothing but pain and misery. 

Home was not a thing you chose, after all. Unbidden rose the memory of Selkie pups he’d encountered, frozen to death in front of their burrow, the entrance of which had been blocked by the foundation stone of a bridge stanchion, laid during the warmth of the day. The wee ones had come back home as night came on and died, confused and frightened, trying to go home. 

“You deserved better,” Newt cried, eyes wide and staring at the tattered remnant of the obscurus, not knowing whether he meant Credence, or if his words encompassed all the mistreated beings he couldn’t help. His hands scrabbled on the broken, filthy floor as his his lungs struggled against the weight to fill with air. 

He felt compelled, in what he figured were his last moments, to explain himself- to explain to someone, anyone what was in his heart. Compelled to be given the chance to be understood, even if only by a mindless darkness. 

“I just-- want to help.” he gasped. Darkness imploded on him. With the last ounce of his will, he groped across the floor and popped the remaining catch on his case.

His creatures may not survive for long, and they would be hunted, but at least his case would not be their coffin...he could do that much, he thought as he descended into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt on a Ship

Consciousness returned by degrees. Newt had been knocked unconscious enough to be familiar with the feeling. He let himself bask for a moment in the simple fact that he was alive.

The memory of recent events hit him and he jerked upright as though he’d been kicked. Norah scuttled away from him quivering in surprise and Dougal started where he had been sitting on the case shifting invisible except for his grave, glowing eyes.

“Sorry!” Newt said, reaching for the bowtruckle. She immediately clung to his thumb and he stroked her long, slender back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” he murmured. He glanced at Dougal as he shifted back into view. 

“What on earth...” Newt blinked. “I don’t feel---I mean. I’m not--miserable.” The word was not nearly strong enough to describe what he’d just been through, but that was alright because no one was really listening anyway. He could still feel the disturbing echo of the Angstere charm filtering in from outside, but it was the merest hint of what he’d just been through. 

“So it wasn’t the charm,” he murmured to Norah. She crawled up his sleeve and took up position under his lapel, peaking out. With a last absent thumb stroke along the back of her head, he got shakily to his feet. 

“Oh,” he said, freezing. Slowly, he put his hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his wand. “It was you, not the charm.” He kept his eyes glued to the ground, but he could feel the presence of the obscurus in it’s corner. “But, if you were doing it,” Newt continued “And now you’re not doing it, does that mean that you can decide what…” Slowly, so slowly, he brought wide eyes up. The obscurus was cascading down the wall, smoky tendrils pooling on the floor in the corner. The pool rippled, bulged and began to seathe. Two glittering points coalesced into eyes set in a pale face, staring from behind a shadowy veil. 

“Help me,” The words might have been a whisper of air through dry grass. “Please-” The lines of Credence’s face blurred and Newt stumbled forward in panic, hand outstretched.

“Credence! Yes! I will help you,” He knelt beside the heaving shadow, outstretched fingers trembling as he fought the urge to touch it. “I’m going to take my wand out now, please don’t-- don’t worry.” Newt pulled his wand slowly from his pocket and raised it towards the ceiling. The obscurus contracted violently. 

“Sorry! Sorry...” Newt felt sweat break out on his brow, struggling with how best to reason with a being who was only partially materialized and entirely traumatized. “I’m just going to create a-- a home. A Temporary home. A place you can stay, where you can live until we figure out things. Figure out how to help you.” The obscurus retracted further, flattening up against the wall. 

“Expecto Sanctorum!” Newt flicked his wrist and a diaphanous blur of prismatic light shimmered slowly from the tip of his wand. Gently, Newt blew towards it and it expanded and popped gently into a bubble and floated, tethered by a slender strand to the tip of the wand. Then he fell back in old tactics. When in doubt, ramble.

“You know, Credence, I have trouble holding myself together at the best of times too.. I imagine it’s gotten a lot harder for you since..well, you know. In there, you see, you can relax.” Newt said, gazing at the spell he’d created a few months previous in Africa. He turned back to the obscurus, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “If you'd like to, Credence, I can help you in.” 

The obscurus stopped moving altogether. Newt crouched down and knelt on the floor. He stared at the grain of the wood, trying to imagine what it must feel like to be Credence Barebone. It must be the most horrible thing- to lose your home, all you know, your very body. And Credence had been offered help before. 

“You’ve got no good reason to trust me, Credence.” Newt murmured. “You’ve got no reason to trust anyone. But I need to leave New York, leave the United States, really, and-- It seems to me you’d be better off somewhere else too- oh!” 

Smoky tendrils lifted from the floor and snaked around the shimmering bubble. 

“You want out as much as i do. Well, who could blame you?” Just- let me-“ 

Newt twisted his wand and an opening appeared in the bubble. Air and shadow whooshed in, sucked through the small opening. The bubble expanded as the obscurus filtered in. Newt flicked his wrist again and the opening closed. The slender tether broke and the bubble floated free hovering at rye level, the obscurus suspended in its midst. 

“Credence?” Newt asked after several seconds. The obscurus extended tendrils and probed at the walls of the bubble and it flexed with the pressure. Newt reached out and ran a finger across the bubble just where the tendril rested. “I will take care of you, Credence. And I promise, we will find a way to help you get- to help you back.” The tendril probed once more and then withdrew. 

Newt sniffed. And looked around as if in a daze. Dougal was now laying splayed over the case, fingers and toes clamped over its edges. It rocked gently and Dougal’s eyes flashed blue. 

“Ah! You’re the only one that got out? Ah, why am I asking, I can never really tell what you’re thinking now can I.” Newt walked over and put a foot on top of the case holding the top firmly down. Dougal climbed up his leg and wrapped his furry arms around Newt’s neck. Newt smiled slightly and butted him gently with his nose.

“Thanks for keeping the door shut, Dougal” He said and crouched. He opened the lid and was completely ready for the niffler as the little guy flew out of the case. Newt caught him in midair and sighed, stroking the wiggling body. 

“Not now, we need to go! Go home, you see?” The niffler raised his spines slightly then snorted and dived back down into the case. Newt chuckled and looked over his shoulder at the obscurus. 

“When even he wants to go, you know it’s beyond time.” He waved his wand vaguely and the bubble wafted gently over the lid of the case and descended at Newt’s gentle pat. “I’ll be down as soon as I can to arrange quarters. Hopefully we can still catch our ship.” 

This last remark was said with real longing. Now that his task was complete, Newt had a terrible sense of urgency to leave New York behind him. Home wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but this place was positively barbaric.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Newt finally takes care of all the things he's been to busy to attend to and Credence's circumstances improve dramatically.

Amazingly, unbelievably, not only did Newt and his case of creatures make it back to the ship with time to spare, they made it back with no incidents whatsoever.

This made Newt edgy. He watched the Statue of Liberty receding with a profound sense of relief and was almost giddy with it when he made it to his assigned cabin. He closed the door with a resounding thud behind him and sighed happily.

The cabin was minuscule and had no window, but having it all to himself meant not having to dodge cabin-mates when he needed to enter his zoo which was a luxury he had been more than willing to pay for, despite the dwindling funds from his publisher’s advance.

Typically, Newt loathed long voyages, or indeed any situation that involved enforced inactivity. This trip was different. There was so much to do- collating his notes from over a year and a half of research and beginning to fill out the outline of his book, catching up on chores he’d been neglecting and now, trying to crack the puzzle of the obscurus.

Or Obscurial, Newt reflected as he set his case on the floor of the room. Some aspect of Credence was still clearly present within the obscurus. Newt grinned. He hadn’t been able to save Credence from Grindelwald and the Aurors, but by Merlin’s beard, he was going to figure out how to do it now.

He popped the catches on his case and descended. After the beginnings of his collection had almost starved to death when he was struck down suddenly by the speckled plague, he’d learned that he had to take care of himself if he was to take care of anyone else. So, now that danger had passed, he allowed himself to listen to the cumulative complaints his body made. B Before he did anything else, he made his way to the habitat he had built for himself.

The small, neat cottage bordered by a fieldstone wall would not have been out of place in any part of the English countryside and the utter normality of it, the familiarity never failed to calm frazzled nerves. Unlike the rest of the habitat he had created for his animals, the house was entirely free from clutter, almost spartan in both decoration and furnishings.

In his bedroom, a sparse affair with a creaking old brass bedstead and a wardrobe, he carefully removed the Swooping Evil from his pocket and held her underneath her perch. She unwound her tail and grasped it without really waking, swaying gently as he left her there with a quick caress . Nora hopped off his lapel and made for the window. She’d make it back to her tree on her own, probably stopping to gossip with her friends on the way there.

He stripped off his clothing and threw it in a bundle into the wardrobe. As the door closed, the clothing floated up and began putting itself away. It would be clean by the next time he needed to be presentable to the outside world.

He headed to the bathroom and turned the on the taps to a truly enormous Victorian claw foot tub. While the tub filled with water, and the tiled room filled with steam, Newt took stock of himself in the full length mirror.

He stared at his reflection as he ran fingers gently over the various bruises and contusions that covered his ribs and thigh where he’d slammed into rails of the subway.

Memories that he had firmly repressed rose to the surface as he twisted his body around to look at the healing cuts that Grindelwald’s lashing spells had inflicted directly into his skin. He had told no one the extent of his injuries after the fact. The thought of strange hands poking and prodding, even in an effort to heal made him anxious and dizzy.

So he had taken the first opportunity that he had for privacy and slipped into the first loo he happened upon where he employed a quick-staunching spell that had served him so well in the field. It had burned horribly, sterilizing and covering open wounds with a skin-like substance.

The following days had been so busy between endlessly debriefing MACUSA Aurors, clearing Tina’s name, planning his obscurus side quest, and performing the bare minimum care for his animals, that he never had the chance to address the wounds properly.

He traced the light, silvery scars that were like forks of lighting arching over the skin across his shoulders and down his back, buttocks and thighs, adding to the more random cicatrix of scars he’d accumulated over the years dealing with magical beasts. The pattern was heaviest over his shoulders.

He’d curled away from the lash, instinctively protecting his head as pain had lanced through his body. He winced at the memory.

“Stop,” he ground out, clenching his hands. “Just-- stop. Newton. Stop. It’s over. It’s over. You’re fine. You are alright.”

Newt rarely wished for company outside his beasts and his thoughts, but at times like this, when his breath hitched in his chest and he pressed his eyes shut against burning tears, he yearned for contact- for the press of a body against his, a solid weight to anchor him down and ground him in the reality that he was in, where things were alright, rather than that which he was remembering.

Failing that, there was always the bath which was about to overflow. He slowly lowered himself into the water until he was submerged in heat and the pressure of water all the way up to his cheeks. He waved his wand over the water, whispering “Medellaquatus,”

A pungent, medicinal scent bloomed and his skin prickled into gooseflesh before smoothing. He groaned in relief as his aching muscles began to unknot and relax. He tipped his hand over the rim of the tub and let his wand clatter to the tiled floor before letting his arm splash down into the water.

He lost track of time as he floated, his thoughts slowing to a pleasant buzz as he casually pondered the nature of the obscurus. Rarely was nature, magical or otherwise, as cruel as it was with regards to the creation of an obscurus though, objectively, their existence made absolute sense.

Magic after all, was not like any other human talent. It was a thing apart from the wielder. If you believed the likes of Norah McTire, which Newt for the most part did, magic was a force that lived symbiotically with the wielder. She postulated that the nature of a wizards magic reflected the nature of the person. It was widely accepted that those of stronger will had a greater capacity to affect the world around them through spells. Less accepted, but probably equally true, was the fact that spells merely focused intent, rather than creating the effect themselves.

By the time one got one’s wrist right and the words in one’s head, intent was pure and focused and the power had a very specific conduit through which to flow. But casting a spell was not a physical act at all, nor one which depleted the wielder in the least, other than the energy spent focusing one’s mind.

To Newt, that fact reinforced the idea that, for a witch or a wizard, magic was a thing apart. In a healthy wizard, it coexisted so seamlessly that it was indistinguishable from the person. In an Obscurial, the power, denied release, turned inward and…. devoured.

Every witch or wizard had the capacity to generate and obscurus. Understanding the nature of an obscurus would bring the wizarding world leaps closer to understanding the nature of magic itself.

Few in the wizarding world, however, had been able to study them or even wanted to. McTire had been one such witch. He’d been rather obsessed with her books for the majority of his second year at Hogwarts, sneaking into the restricted section many times to study her theories on the nature of magic. Until professor Dumbledore had found him and allowed him to take the books to his dormitory, providing he wrote his own thoughts on the matter down meticulously.

Newt sighed. Those notes would have been an amazing beginning for to a truly groundbreaking thesis, had he been allowed to continue at Hogwarts and take his OWLs.

But then he had gotten to her chapters on magic as it pertained to other beings...magical creatures, she claimed, had no soul nor any real control over their powers which made them dangerous and, by her estimation, largely worthy of extermination.

He remembered that night clearly. He’d stared at the words for some time before reaching under his pillow and pulling forth the bowtruckle he’d found in the way to the quidditch field for another interminable match.

Looking into Pickets beady little eyes, he’d laughed. No soul indeed. McTire couldn’t have been more wrong. But the rest of it all made sense.

Newt lifted a hand and beheld it’s wrinkled skin. He stretched in the water until his back cracked, running fingers over his neck, chest, and thighs before dunking his head fully. The purpling bruises had largely faded and his muscles were nowhere near as tender as they had been. The skin on his back felt more supple. The scars would never disappear, he knew. But with consistent treatment, they would remain pliant and largely painless.

As he dried himself and dressed, he firmed up plans. Nora McTire was the foremost authority on the nature of magic the obscurus phenomenon and Obscurials. If anyone could help him understand what was happening with Credence, and possibly how to help him, it was probably her. He had corresponded with her while at Hogwarts, and shortly after his altercation in Africa. She had seemed amenable to meeting. If credence agreed, he’d bring him to her.

He slipped into much-patched cambric shirt, stained khaki pants and sturdy, well-worn boots and clumped down the stairs and out the door to make his rounds. He turned the corner into his workshop and stumbled backwards in surprise. The obscurus floated around the workshop in its bubble, seeming to study the crowded, messy worktops, bursting drawers full of all manner of implements and experiments and tools lining the walls . The African obscurus had merely drifted in it’s habitat, seemingly inert. Newt lifted a finger to his lips trying to decide how to address the situation.

“Credence,” he hazarded. The obscurus stopped. Not just the bubble, but also the shifting shadow within froze. That was definitely a result but probably not a positive one.

He decided abruptly to think of Credence as an Obscurial rather than an obscurus, and to treat him accordingly. He felt absolutely sure the young man was still in there.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a housekeeper, as you can see. Mostly, I’m the only one who’d mind the mess and it’s pointless trying to tidy up with a niffler around anyhow.”

Newt turned to the feed bins and pretended not to notice what appeared to him to be a fear reaction. People didn’t like being caught out any more than animals did. “I’m going on feeding rounds, now. My name is Newt, incidentally. Scamander. Now that I think about it, we haven’t been formally introduced.”

He looked over his shoulder at Credence. The Obscurial rippled slightly and drifted closer. “Maybe we’ll wait to shake hands till later.” Newt said, a sideways smile quirking his lips. “I’m a magizoologist. That’s like a zoologist except for magical creatures. You see, there are creatures that muggles- uh, no-majs- um.”

He stood up with a scoop of grain in one hand and a pail in the other and struggled to figure out where to start.

“What you really need to know, Credence, for now, is that all the creatures you see in here are safe. Or, fairly safe anyway. Certainly safe for you. I think. I’m studying them. Wizards and Witches are decent folk, at least most of them, but they don’t understand these beasts and people fear what they don’t understand whether they are magical people or muggles.” He paused and bit his lip. “But then, you know that better than anyone, don’t you?”

Newt hefted the feed buckets and made his way over to the moon calves’ pasture. The obscurial drifted behind him, always at a distance of a few feet. All the while he fed animals, trimmed toenails, brushed fur, pet heads and scratched ears, Newt explained the nuances of the wizarding world to Credence, as well as he could.

“So you see, it’s not all that complicated,” he said as he slapped the Berta’s gian horn affectionately. Then he smiled slightly, and winced a bit. “Actually, that’s not true. It is incredibly complicated. But you’ll get into the swing of things eventually.”

Newt turned around, expecting to see the amorphous specter floating along behind him as it had all evening. Instead, he found the fully formed figure of Credence, a bit blurry around the edges, but certainly well defined. The habitat bubble stretched gossamer-like over his form, containing without inhibiting movement, just as it was meant to.

Credence was stooped over, balanced on the balls of his feet and one hand, reaching with the other towards a baby fwooper who had hopped into the errumpet habitat. The little ball of feather fluff was flirting, reaching out with her beak before coyly hiding her head behind fluffed wings. Credence looked positively besotted. Newt quickly turned away before his regard was noticed, his heart hammering hard in his chest.

It seemed like Credence was coalescing, for lack of a better word, when he wasn’t thinking about it. Newt thought he’d caught the beginnings of human shapes here and there during his surreptitious glances throughout their rounds, but this was confirmation, and it was astounding.

“She just hatched a few days ago,” Newt murmured. “She’ll need a name. They all have names. Little Plucky- he’s always pulling at things and Fortescue- he… well he just looked like a Fortescue. Sort of…” Newt tucked in his chin and lowered his eyebrows and did a little swooping motion, thinking only of how grumpy the little bird always looked. “He’s an old soul, is Fortescue.” Newt chuckled and risked another peek behind him.

Credence was still crouched but was staring right at him, his eyebrows raised and his mouth a bit agape in disbelief. It was an expression Newt was familiar with encountering after he’d expounded on one of his animals. He felt unaccountably hurt in this case.

“It is a bit silly, I suppose, but-“

“No…” Credence’s voice was little more than wind rushed over snow. He regarded the little bird intently once again. “Fuzzy.” He murmured. Newt grinned.

“Perfect.”

Fuzzy opened her mouth and warbled happily. Or would have, if she could have. She looked as if she was, but no sound came out. Credence’s brow knitted and he looked his question at Newt.

“Oh! Right. See, Fuzzy, she’s a fwooper. The sound of their trill is so beautiful it drives humans insane. So, I’ve had to enchant her. She can sing, but no one can hear her.

Credence looked stricken and Newt crouched down, trying to meet his eyes. “See, I’m trying to figure out a way to create a counter-charm...something we can cast on ourselves so that people who have them won’t have to enchant them. So they can sing, and we can hear them.”

Newt reached towards the little fwooper and drew her gently into his cupped hand, stroking his thumb over her downy head. She fluffled out her feathers in pleasure.

He looked at Credence and hesitated before reaching for the Obscurial’s hand. He was relieved when Credence allowed him to grasp it and turn it palm up. He was also relieved that it was corporeal and warm within the confines of the thin gloss. He gently transferred the small fwooper into credence’s palm and crooked Credence’s fingers around her.

“Would you mind helping me feed fuzzy and her family?” Newt asked quietly.

The little bird hunkered down and puffed her feathers out, looking for all the world as though she would never leave the cup of credence’s palm.

Credence looked up, his eyes wide and shining.

“How?” he croaked.

“Easiest thing in the world.” Newt got to his feet and reached down to help Credence up but Credence didn’t notice, his eyes fixed on the little bird nodding off in his hand as he stumbled to his feet.

“I’ll show you where their food is. They eat twice a day, though they’ll likely do their best to convince you that they are constantly starving all the time.”

Newt led the way back toward the workshop, noticing the way Credence seemed to slouch over the little bird, changing his gait so that he didn’t jostle the little thing at all. His careful consideration was so different from Jacob’s casual affection.

Newt felt a pang as he passed Frank’s empty southwestern perch. He’d left some good friends back in New York.

The sight of several fuzzy heads popping up over the edge of a large nest distracted him from sad thoughts. The nest was nestled in the crook of a sprawling flat-topped tree in what appeared to be the center of the african savanna, at least until you looked straight up. Beaks open and chests expanding, Newt knew they’d be almost too loud to bear if he and Credence could hear them.

Credence gasped and jerked forward as the little bird jumped suddenly out of his hands and zipped over to the foot of the tree where she began fluttering her wings, trying to fly up to the nest.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to let her go!”Credence gasped, curling in on himself, staring his empty hands, his figure blurring swiftly behind the dark veil of shadow.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Newt said, focused on the distressed little bird. “She just wants to make sure she doesn’t miss her meal. Just...lift her up and put her in the nest and I’ll get the grubs.”

Newt turned and scooped out a handful of grubs from a nearby keg before spinning back around, realizing his error almost as soon as he made it.

Credence was struggling to hold himself together and make his way towards the little bird and it was clearly beyond him. Shadows rose and twisted like smoke around his body as he fell to his knees.

“Idiot,” Newt muttered, grimacing. He swooped around Credence and lifted the little bird to her nest, tossing in a handful of grubs. Immediately, they ceased their striving and busied themselves contentedly hunting down dinner on the twigged floor of their nest.

Turning back, Newt was horrified to see Credence collapse onto the floor. He sunk down on his knees close to the Obscurial.

“I can’t--stop it.” Credence ground out. He was clutching his arms around his heaving chest.

“You don’t need to stop it anymore. Let go, Credence, it’ll be fine.” Newt said firmly. “You’ll be fine.”

“No, I can’t-”

“Credence, I promise, it’ll be ok.” Newt insisted, reaching out and putting his hands lightly on Credence’s shoulders. Credence sobbed and leaned into Newt’s grip.

“You can’t hurt anything now, but you are clearly hurting yourself. You needn’t. You can let go.” Newt cast about for any idea of how to convince Credence of the truth. “That’s what the bubble is for, Credence. You can’t affect anything outside of it. You don’t have to fight this...change anymore.”

Credence sobbed again and Newt gripped his shaking shoulders harder, dipping his face lower to try and catch Credence’s eyes. They were wide and white and unseeing.

Suddenly, it was too much. Newt felt beyond himself. Animals were easy by comparison. Even wounded, traumatized ones. Newt had no idea why he ever felt as though he could help a person with all of this. He leaned his forehead against Credence’s jerking shoulder and sighed, staring at nothing.

“I’m not leaving, Credence. Whatever you feel like you need to do, I’ll do it with you until you don’t need to do it anymore.”

Feeling the Obscurial dissolve under his hands was a painful relief. He sat there, sort of curled around the diminished bubble and stared blankly at the floor for a bit.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally, leaning back. “I didn’t think.” The Obscurial hovered in the center of the bubble, looking smaller than it ever had.

At that moment Newt’s stomach growled. Loudly. He snorted and plunked back onto his bottom, releasing the bubble, only realizing then how warm it had been. That was interesting.

“Nothing like biology to ruin a perfectly good apology,” He shut his eyes against a wave of dizziness and shook his head. Merlin’s beard, how long had it been since he’d eaten?

“If you’d like, you can come to my house… I don’t know if you’re hungry- or even if you can eat when you’re incorporeal, but there’s some books and things and…” he drifted off, wondering if Credence could even really understand him while dissolute. He could ask later. Assuming the Obscurial coalesced again. Newt hoped he’d be around to that happen.

He got to his feet and went over to check on the fwoopers. They were piled on top of eachother, dozing contentedly after their meal. He didn’t have to look to know that Credence hovered just behind him.

“See? They’re just fine. There’s Fuzzy,” Newt pointed to the bird on he top of the pile with her distinctive fuzzy crest, and smiled as she flopped open a wing, falling off the fluff mound only to burrow back in again.

“Trust me when I tell you, you can’t hold onto a baby animal if they don’t want you to. It’s part of how they survive I suppose. Come on. I have got to eat something!”

He turned and strode towards home, hoping Credence followed, but too nervous to look.

His larder and pantry were almost empty. With everything going on, he’d forgotten to restock. He really had to remember to start using his rememberall.

He waved his wand absently and rice drifted through the air to be joined by a trickling stream of salt, a few cardamom pods and what was left of the butter into a pot that filled itself with water and sat itself on the hob which lit underneath it.

Behind him, Credence had reassembled himself again and was staring, wide-eyed at the bubbling pot. Newt grinned in relief.

“If you think that’s impressive...you haven’t seen real cookery done this way. I can manage a hot meal without burning it most of the time, but someone like Queeny can do real wonders. She’s Tina’s sister. You met Tina once, though you probably don’t remember because-”

“I remember,” Credence said. His eyes were downcast. “She tried to help me, then tried to make me forget. But, it didn’t work. The forgetting part. And she was there, I think. At the end.”

Newt nodded. “Are you hungry?”

Credence shook his head and looked looked at his hands. He held one up and Newt realized it was translucent.

“I see. Probably can’t eat at the moment anyway. You may not actually need to worry about the whole eating thing anymore. I’m not sure.”

“Am I a ghost?” Credence whispered. He was staring at his hand with dawning horror. Newt shook his head and leaned back against the countertop behind him, trying to figure out how to explain things. Describing the Wizarding world was easier by far than this.

“No, though a muggle might think of you as one. You’re an Obscurial. Because you were forced to hide your power it became a thing in and of itself...something that could take you over -- which must have been horrifying for you.”

“It was. It...is.” Credence seemed to shrink into himself.

“Then...How much do you remember of what happened in the underground? The, uh, subway.” Newt wasn’t sure he should bring it up, but couldn’t think of any other way to explain to Credence what he thought had happened.

“Everything. I remember everything.” Credence hissed, glaring up from under lowered brows. Darkness writhed around him. Newt suddenly wondered if the bubble would hold up to an Obscurial who really, really wanted to get out of it. He devoutly hoped he was not about to find out, though angry Credence was quite an interesting change from sad or frightened Credence.

“He hit me. He thought it was my sister he wanted, and he hit me. Called me worthless. A squib. I trusted him. I wanted to kill him. I was so angry.”

Newt nodded.

“It was awesome,” he murmured. “You filled the world. It was terrifying. But you came back, for a time. Because of-”

“Tina,” Credence said, and seemed to deflate a bit. “And you. You were-- he hurt you, because of me and you still-- but then the others came. There was light and it hurt so, so much.” Credence whispered. Newt gripped the countertop hard.

“I imagine that it did. They hit you with everything they had. I’ve never seen such a concerted attack and you held on for so long... I believe that your body. Sort of…evaporated.” Newt grimaced and released his death grip on the countertop, rubbing his knuckles.

“But, here you are, Credence. And you’re...you. You are literally the furthest possible thing from a squib. You are an inherently magical being. One that that man wanted to use. But you refused. Which was just marvelous.”

“And what do you want?” Credence asked quietly. Newt smiled tightly and dropped his gaze.

“I would like to find a way to help you have a better life that you have had.” he said thoughtfully. “Though, I suppose I’d like your help as well. There are other obscurials out there. Other children who need help and no one understands them and I think, if we understood more, we might be able to help them, too.” Newt forced himself to look up, perfectly aware that he was admitting to wanting to use the Obscurial, every bit as much as Grindelwald had wanted to, albeit for different reasons.

Credence was looking right at him, assessing. Newt averted his gaze.

“But, I think what really matters, Credence, is what you want. What do you want?”

Credence’s eyes darted around and widened.

“Your pot!” he said.

“My pot? You can have that if you like, but I don’t imagine that’s all-”

“It’s overflowing!” Credence darted forward and lifted the pot off the flame just as it began to boil over.

Newt couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

“See? Who needs help more, you or me?” He asked, killing the flame and removing the pot from Credence hands “I think it’s fine anyway, whatever hasn’t burned to the bottom.” A plate, fork and napkin wafted over to the tiny table, and Newt cocked an eyebrow.

“I know you’re not hungry, but do you mind if I…” He gestured vaguely at the table.

“No!” Credence said. He looked around blankly. “Should I...?”

“I’d like your company, if you don’t mind.” Newt brought out a bottle of pumpkin juice and two glasses.

“Just in case you feel like trying.” He said to Credence as he poured. “Your habitat bubble is an interesting thing. I designed it to contain whatever is within, but not to keep anything from passing through from the outside. If you feel like it, you should certainly be able to eat or drink.”

Credence sat down across the table while Newt tucked into his rice. He’d have to go buy additional food from the ship’s commissary or brave the restaurants if he wanted fruit, but he was far too tired to do any of that now.

“Could I...” Credence started, after some time. “Possibly stay here?”

Newt looked up with his mouth full of rice and nodded vigorously, but Credence was staring at his hands, which he was wringing in his lap.

“I can work,” Credence continued. “I’m quiet. I won’t be in the way. You said you wanted to help and that would...help a lot, if it’s not too much-”

“ ‘s’no trouble!” Newt struggled to talk around his mouthful of rice. He took a swig of pumpkin juice. “It’s no trouble at all. I was hoping you’d say that, honestly. I warn you though, I am not at all quiet. I talk all the time, mostly to myself and I ramble about my animals and I’m extremely messy and I’ll probably drive you mad. You can stay as long as you can stand me.” He chewed on his lip and shoved another forkful of rice into his mouth to stop his rambling.

“Thank you,” Credence said quietly. And yawned. For some reason, that yawn caught Newt completely off guard. It was so...normal.

“You’re quite welcome. Should I just um...We should square you away with a room, then. If you want to stay here, I mean. I could build you a house of your own if you like but…” He drifted off as Credence looked a bit panicked.

“Here is fine. Great even. I’ve been meaning to open up another wing for a while, for a study, to work on my book. The library is too dark, but I like it that way so.... I’ll just- I’ll get about that now.” He pushed his seat back and leapt to his feet.

The conversation had been loaded, and difficult to have, and now that it was over, Newt hadn’t realized he’d been dreading it. He felt lighter.

And all things considered, Credence had been dealing remarkably well with the whole thing. On the other hand, it may still just be sinking in and what was really happening was hat Credence was gearing up for a truly massive existential crisis. But no use borrowing trouble.

“Would you mind giving me a hand?” Newt said as he wandered into the parlor and out the front door. Credence followed immediately. He and Newt stood at the side of the house and Newt considered the long, windowed wall.

He flipped his wand into his hand and tapped his lips with it thoughtfully. Then he pointed at the ground and said, very firmly, “Ilumina Tabula.”

Gossamer strands of light sprung away from his wand, criss-crossing the ground in regular squares of ten feet stretching as far as the eye could see.

Credence gasped from behind him and Newt imagined he might be dancing around the lines of light so he risked a glance. Far from it, Credence had knelt and was tracing the pulsing light with his fingers.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “What is it?”

“I have quite a few charms set on my case, which is how I have been able to extend the area inside so much. But for everything I add, I need to either extend the charm or remove some mass.

“It’s harder to add to the charms, and Frank’s flown the coupe, so to speak. So I’m going to replace his habitat with these rooms. The lines help me judge space and, so a certain extent, cubic volume. It’ll work out more or less the same. I think.” Newt frowned briefly. “Well, anyway. We’ll find out soon enough if it’s not right.”

“What...what will happen if it’s not right?” Credence asked nervously.

“Um, nothing. Because the measurements match up.” Newt tried to be reassuring, but building magic was not his strong suit. He did it out of need, rather than preference. He knew enough about it to be dangerous, but- No, he thought. No need to go further than that. That was as good a description as anything.

“Ok. Credence. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to bring the rooms out from the side of the house. Have you ever seen a house you really like?”

It took a minute but Credence nodded once.

“Wonderful! I’ve never been a great appreciator of architecture. It will be nice to have someone with that sensibility around. If it’s ok with you, can you close your eyes and think of that house? Picture it as clearly as you possibly can.”

Credence obediently closed his eyes and frowned in concentration.

“Can you see it clearly? Can you picture the way the roof looked? What kind of cladding it had?” Newt asked after a bit. Credence hesitated, but then nodded. “Wonderful. Is it ok if I put my hand on your shoulder?

“Yes,” Credence answered absently, clearly still trying to picture the house in his head. Gently, Newt placed his hand over Credence’s shoulder and took a deep breath. He pointed at four corners of the grid on the ground and the lines between the points and the house glowed faintly brighter than the rest of the grid. Then he pointed at the house and waved his wand in a slow circle.

“Domicilia Architecta!” he said, flicking his wrist hard, closing his eyes at the very last moment and releasing some of the control of the spell to Credence, who’s focus on his favorite house shaped it. It was a trick parents often did with their children as they began to learn, albeit on a larger scale. Immediately, the clapboard side of the cottage began shifting slowly towards them. They stopped right at the brightly glowing lines Newt had delineated. After he was sure the volume was within the limits of the extension charms, he squeezed Credence’s shoulder.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Creedence started backwards for a moment before staring with unabashed wonder as columns, and gables, and all manner of embellishments ornamented the exterior as it came together. Intricate trim filled in under the arch of the steeply pitched slate roof. The whole affair shifted color until it settled into pleasant shades of grey, with contrasting dark trim around the windows.

“Thats-- That’s part of the house that I--” Credence drifted off, his mouth agape.

“If you needed any further proof you’re not a squib, this is it. You influenced the spell as I cast it. I’ve never seen this house before. That was all you.” Newt shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t even have to adjust anything.” He looked at the richly adorned Victorian addition to the otherwise quaint, english cottage and smiled. “Let’s see what it looks like inside, shall we?”

Credence couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the structure, but eventually nodded and followed Newt inside as the artificial sun set behind the red mountains of the southwest, which was all that was left of Frank’s habitat.

Downstairs, the room was large and lofty, with high ceilings and airy, arched windows with a large, ornately carved fireplace centered between them. Beautiful bass-relief molding crowned the walls. Other than that, it was empty, awaiting the addition of any furniture Newt chose to put in it. But that could wait.

Newt shook his head in awe.

“Credence, this is beautiful. You must have gone in this house? Must have been quite a place.”

Credence was gazing around wide-eyed but managed a nod.

“Let’s make sure your room turned out as well.”

It hadn’t.

Credence’s room looked exactly like the one he’d grown up with. Poorly painted plaster crumbled away from the large in the corners of the small low-ceilinged room. The windows were small, dark and dirty looking. The wood on the floor was splintered and gaped at the seams.

“Ah.” Was all Newt said, though his heart ached. He glanced at Credence who was wringing his hands in agitation. This had clearly not been a conscious decision. Newy winced and smiled. “Do you mind if I…”

“Yes! I’m sorry I didn’t do it right-“

“No, you actually did it exactly right. The problem wasn’t your vision or your focus. It’s quite...complete….” Newt swung his wand.

Plaster brightened and smoothed itself over walls and a ceiling that raised itself up another five or so feet. Deep window casements jutted out from larger, brightly polished wooden windows. A large, shaggy rug rippled into place across the scarred floor, covering all the but two feet around the edges, which polished themselves to gleaming perfection. A double bed unfolded from mid-air, compete with a thick mattress, sheets and covers in warm, earthy tones. A nightstand, and a table lamp nestled themselves in beside the bed. A wardrobe and bureau, both in warm, worn wood, slotted themselves against the wall by the door. Newt looked around, then swung his wand again. An overstuffed chair and scuffed floor lamp appeared in front of the windows, and a small bookcase added itself next to a secretary’s desk.

“The problem, Credence, is that you deserve more than you think you do.”

Credence shook his head slowly, staring around the room.

“I did terrible things, Mr. Scamander. I remember. I...sinned…I don’t deserve anything.”

Newt was familiar with the idea of sin. The Ministry had entire books written about the implications of muggle belief systems to the wizarding world. He reached out and placed a hand on Credence’s shoulder, shaking him gently to get him to look up. When he did, Newt forced himself to maintain eye contact.

“Would you blame an abused animal for biting the hand that helps it Credence?”

“No!” Credence said vehemently enough that Newt was sure there was a story there.

“Then you have to accept that all animals, humans included, are products of their environments. You were...abused. And you bit. But despite all that, in the end, you tried to do the right thing. Remember that. Imagine what you could do if you were comfortable and happy?” Newt said gently. “What happened in the past is not your fault. How you choose to live your life now is your freedom, and your responsibility.”

Credence was gazing at Newt intently, taking in the words and mulling them over. Newt dropped his eyes and his hand and felt his mind go a bit blank. He was awful at all of this. But it was important. That much he knew for certain.

“I-- Thank you.” Credence said finally. “This is wonderful.” Newt cocked a half smile and fidgeted.

“Oh!” he looked at the empty bookcase. “I know just the thing.” He frowned in concentration and the bookcase suddenly filled with battered books in a variety of colors and sizes.

“Those are my school books from first through sixth year and a few of my note books. I have no idea if you’re tired, or even if you need to sleep, but-- do you even like to read?”

“I love reading,” Credence said, stepping towards the bookcase before halting, awkwardly. Life had flowed suddenly into his face, animating it in a way that Newt hadn’t yet seen.

“I dumped the flyers sometimes, and went to the library and just read whatever was on the tables. I’d be late, and ma was mad, but it was worth it.” Credence murmured absently.

“Well, it’s a good start. It’ll help you understand the basics, at least. Write down your questions and we’ll talk them over in the evenings. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted. The loo’s down the hall. I think there’s extras of everything. I’ll see you in the morning, Credence. Sleep well. Or..read well. And, if you want anything, or need anything, feel free to help yourself.” Newt headed for the door.

“Goodnight, Mr. Scamander,” Credence said, heading for the bookshelf. Newt winced.

“Credence? It’s Newt. Please.”

Credence looked uncomfortable, but nodded. He already had A History of Magic in his hands when Newt closed the door with a soft click.

Newt collapsed into bed without undressing. Then, almost immediately dragged himself back up and fumbled himself into a pair of loose fitting pajama bottoms. When his wardrobe did not immediately produce the top, he shrugged and collapsed into bed again.

Bed never felt better than after a day of working with his animals, mostly because his philosophy about worry only pertained to other things.

He worried about his animals all the time, and today he had seen to all of the things that had been bothering him-- the state of the Errumpet’s horn after she’d gouged that tree, the length of the nifler’s nails (they had desperately needed trimmed) and the state of the baby Nundu’s teeth. One had been wiggling horribly without falling out- trapping food underneath and creating a situation ripe for infection. He rather suspected that the poisonous breath for which they were so feared was merely the result of a lack of access to good dentistry and had been testing out his theory by properly taking care of the baby’s teeth. He smirked sleepily, remembering Credence’s reaction to Mama’s rawr as she exerted control over her wiggling offspring to give Newt better access. She’d watched the extraction closely and Newt had let her sniff the tooth thoroughly before saving it in his pocket for further study. He had to remember to see what manner of bacteria had formed, but that was a task for tomorrow. He drifted off to sleep to the gentle sounds of the sleeping house and the occasional cry of one of his beasts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Credence gets some new clothes, and Newt discovers some things about the nature of an Obscurial.

Creedence heard the door snick softly shut and looked up from the book in his hands. Then he held up a hand and looked at it.

It was solid.

He squeezed thumb and forefinger together and felt pressure and friction. He could see the shining gloss of the bubble that surrounded him, but couldn’t feel it at all. Carefully, he placed the book back on the bookshelf and turned to look at himself in the mirror over the bureau.

He ran careful fingertips lightly over his forehead and cheeks, shuffled his hands through his hair. He could feel the individual strands of hair flex and curl back slightly. He felt so...normal. For the first time in a week, he felt human. Solid.

He looked around the room, disbelieving. The change in circumstance was almost too much to comprehend. He ran his hand over the smooth wood of the bureau, letting his fingernails catch in the minor scratches in the finish. Had Newt created something already worn to make if feel more comfortable? It didn’t seem like it. It seemed like this furniture had been...somewhere...for a long time. Stored somewhere in the vastness of the suitcase.

He clamped down on a hysterical giggle. This whole place..inside a suitcase! And those animals! It was magic! Real magic. But the thing he was finding hardest to accept, the most unbelievable thing about any of this, was Newt.

Credence had long ago accepted the fact that magic, or something like it, was part of the world- mostly because of the things he’d been able to do as a child. But absolutely nothing in Credence’s experience had prepared him for someone who was interested in helping him without an ulterior motive.

He knew himself to be undeserving of that help. But he also knew that it was possible to earn things- things like extra food, things like favors, things like affection.

Newt had been incredibly clear with what he wanted, and Credence was astounded to find that he wanted the exact same things. After a lifetime of being an unwilling follower, it was extremely exciting.

He would learn. He would learn so much about magic so fast that he would impress Newt.

He would take such good care of Fuzzy and her family, and show them so much kindness that they would grow up strong and healthy.

He would discover everything he could about the foul creature he was and help find a... a cure, or a way to really die. And a way to help others like him recover or find rest. He’d spend the rest of his life doing these things and maybe someday come close to repaying Newt for giving him what Graves had promised— a life in the magical world.

And eventually, when he knew enough, and was strong enough, he would hunt down that bastard Graves and put an end him, thereby redressing some of the harm he had done to gain his favor in the first place.

But first, he realized, he really was tired. Maybe returning to solidity meant he had some human needs again. He thought about it and didn’t feel hungry, though he hadn’t eaten since-- he didn't’ remember when. Or drunk anything for that matter. But it dawned on him that he was indeed exhausted. He ran hands over his clothing and paused. 

Would the bubble keep him from removing his clothing? Was what he was wearing even clothing at all? It didn't’ seem likely since it appeared and disappeared with him. Credence pulled at a sleeve. It moved and puckered, but for some reason he didn’t get the impression he could remove it. It seemed almost as though he could feel it- like a second skin, which was extremely unnerving.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more unnerving it became. It was like being trapped in a way..being trapped in something that was skin tight- flush against his body. 

His collar felt suddenly restricting and he gasped. He could feel his control- the almost subconscious act of will he only just realized he’d been exerting, begin to weaken. He watched smokey tendrils of shadow snake up from his hands and turned to look at himself in the mirror. What he saw there was not reassuring. Shadow wreathed him, swirling around him, blurring his form. Trying to hold it together felt like trying to hold hot coils of oil together. It was painful and tricky and increasingly impossible.

“It’s alright,” he muttered to himself. “You’ll come back again once it’s over. And you can’t hurt anything. Newt promised--” His muscles contracted violently, and he saw himself begin to convulse in the mirror, but he was oddly unattached from the process this time around, his consciousness floating somehow outside of it.

Credence struggled to suck in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. On the exhale, he let go of the hot oil feeling, letting it dissipate, imagined flinging his arms open in release. Now, it felt less like being torn apart and more like a sudden, violent, whole body sneeze. The he felt...good, and eventually warm, and soft. 

He drifted, losing track of time. The Mooncalfs’ moon cast wan light through the casements. It filtered through the Obscurials dematerialized form, floating peacefully in its bubble, and eventually set.

After a while Credence realized he’d been thinking about the fact that he couldn't see, as such. Everything was dark and muffled, but he knew exactly where he was and what surrounded him. He could feel the furniture in the room, and the walls. Beyond them, Newt was a comfortting point of warmth that radiated outwards, and beyond Newt, he could sense the animals as bright lights of consciousness...already awake or waking.

He realized he’d also been thinking about pulling himself together again, and how that process might work. It had been a violent transition before, his body slamming itself back together any which way, but now he felt as though he had control over the process. And, he had promised Newt to try to understand it, so he did his best to think it through, as it happened. 

He sensed the vague outline of his body coalescing as his thoughts became more active, more specific. He could sense the rough edges of the suit coat and scratchy trousers and felt a wave of revulsion. 

He thought hard for a moment, closing the eyes he suddenly had to reduce outside distraction and focused inward. He imagined himself naked. 

It was very difficult. From an extremely young age that nudity was sinful and that his body was something to conceal. Ma had demanded that he be at least somewhat covered, even while he bathed, so he never had developed a firm idea of what his fully naked form even looked like. 

So he concentrated instead on the idea of the absence of clothes and opened his eyes again.

The more aware he became of his senses, the more his body developed the ability to feel them. Solidity, form, weight. Eventually, he realized his feet were cold. He looked down at bare toes and grinned in disbelief. Then watched a red flush travel up his legs. He looked into the mirror and gaped at the reflection of his bare chest for a moment. It was definitely solid and he was definitely nude. Which was amazing. 

The thought of being stuck in his only suit for the rest of eternity was suddenly mind-numbingly horrifying now that he thought of it. But that did pose a new problem. What was he to wear? He had nothing of his own.

Cautiously, avoiding looking down at his body, he made his way over to the wardrobe and reached out to open the door. As soon as he touched the latch, the door flew open and a rack of hanging clothing exploded out of it, hitting Credence squarely in the chest. 

He realized to his delight that it actually hurt. Not much, but like getting hit with something normally hurt. The sheer normality of it overwhelmed him and he felt giddy laughter bubble up in his chest until he caught sight of his reflection in the small oval mirror at the top of the open door. 

To his astonishment, the mirror tilted up on it’s own, and then slowly down, seeming to eye him up. Abruptly the rack of clothing was yanked back inside the recesses of the wardrobe and a snake of cloth came whipping out. Quick as a striking snake, it wound its way around Credence’s body, looping around ankles, hips, waist, chest and neck before running down the length of each arm.

Before alarm could totally set in, it flew back into the wardrobe, and the doors slammed shut behind it.

Wide eyed, Credence backed slowly away as the wardrobe began to shake and shimmy. There were sounds of fabric ripping and shuffling around and the unmistakable frenzied clicking of a sewing machine. After a few minutes the sounds stopped and the wardrobe grew still. Credence looked around the room and then eyed the wardrobe warily.

He wondered if he’d be able to disintegrate and reform himself with other clothes, but he never really paid attention to other clothing before and so assumed that he’d just re-materialize in the same black suit with stupid white piping that Ma had picked out because she said it made him look suitably modest. Anything, even going naked forever, would be better than that.

So he took a deep breath and crept towards the wardrobe again, this time from the side. The wardrobe sprang open again at his touch but now the rack shot out next to him instead of into him.

The clothing had changed. Rather than the bright blues and greens he’d glimpsed before, the rack was filled with shades of grey and black and silver. He gingerly ran his hands over some of the garments. They were far, far finer than anything he had ever had. Brocade and wool and even silk.

“Th-thank you,” he said, for lack of a better target, addressing the mirror on the door. The door waggled up and down on its hinges in what seemed to be a friendly manner.

Emboldened, Credence looked back into the mirror. “Is it possible that you have anything, maybe, not as nice as these? They’re beautiful and I don’t want to ruin them with the- with the animals.”

The wardrobe did nothing for a moment, but just before Credence could start to feel really foolish, one of the drawers next to the hangers popped open. Inside was a selection of plain black cotton shirts and sturdy looking grey trousers. The floorboards of the wardrobe bucked and two boots came flying out, one landing squarely on Credence’s bare foot. He yelped and sprang back, but quickly recovered himself and addressed the mirror again, albeit from a bit further away.

“Thanks, that’s. Um. Perfect.”

Next to him, he heard more squeaking and groaning. The bureau was going through convulsions similar to the wardrobe. Credence stared back and forth between the two, wondering if they talked other.

The top drawer of the wardrobe flew open and a pair of drawers and stockings were flung into the air. The former landed on Credence’s head and the latter landed somewhere behind him. He stood stock still for a moment before he caught his reflection in the mirror.

The first burst of laughter surprised him so much that he clamped a hand over his mouth. But it was too much, so he simply gave in. Deep, gut-clenching laughter echoed off the walls. He laughed until tears of laughter streamed down his face and his breath came in gasps, and when he could he went about the process of dressing himself.

Newt startled awake to an unfamiliar sound but it didn’t take him long to remember that he was no longer alone in his house and recognize the sound for what it was- the deep rumble of pleasant, baritone laughter. He smiled to himself and stretched, then scrubbed a hand through his hair.

A good night’s sleep did absolute wonders for him and, apparently, for Credence as well. He wondered what had caused the Obscurial to laugh so hard and remembered why he’d stashed away his uncle’s bedroom furniture so soon after having acquired it. It only then occurred to him to wonder if Credence even needed clothing, or if his were somehow a part of him.

He supposed he’d find out soon enough.

He threw the covers back and hauled himself out of bed, rubbing hands over his face and bare chest. He’d have to figure out where his pyjama top had gotten to. Probably the Niffler’s lair. 

He caught the heavy housecoat that the wardrobe jettisoned and shrugged into it on his way to the loo to take care of business. He scrubbed at the light shadow of beard and then shrugged. He didn’t need to leave the cabin of the ship for at least another day before someone noticed, and animals didn’t mind a bit of scruff. He hazarded a guess that Credence wouldn’t either.

By the time he made it downstairs, Credence had already found the kettle and set it on to boil, and was sitting at the table reading a History of Magic with a notebook by his side. He was so absorbed by the material, he didn’t look up at Newt came in and Newt was content to putter around the kitchen putting together oatmeal.

He deeply regretted the lack of butter and decided a trip topside was more imminent than he had thought when he woke up. The kettle began hissing with steam. Just as he moved to make tea, Credence looked up and started in surprise.

“Sorry! I’m-- I didn’t even see you come in,” Credence’s eye widened momentarily as he regarded Newt, before he flushed and looked down at the book he was fidgeting around in his hands. Newt looked around himself for the source of Credence embarrassment, and, upon not seeing anything, shrugged it off. 

He was no good to anyone before his first cup of tea. He gestured for Credence to remain seated when he would have gotten up to make tea and did it himself, mechanically going through the motions without thinking about them in the slightest.

Credence stared sidelong at Newt as he went about his morning routine, but eventually opened his book up again, and they sat in companionable silence as Newt fixed a cup of tea. He sat back, took a long sip, and sighed happily. The only sounds were the turning of the pages of Credence’s book and the occasional soft sound of surprise or interest. It was extremely pleasant. Usually people wanted to talk well before he was ready. He wondered absently if Tina was a morning talker. He rather doubted it.

“Mr.- Um. Newt?”

Newt blinked and focused on Credence, smiling slightly as he noticed the new clothing for the first time. The young man looked much more comfortable in the loose-fitting cotton top than that awful cheap suit. That answered that question.

“Good morning, Credence. Sorry, I forgot to warn you. I’m a positive beast before my first cup of tea. No manners to speak of.”

“It can wait-” Credence began but Newt waved him off

“No, no. I’m among the living again.” As if to prove it, Newt arched backwards, stretching hugely. All the vertebrae in his back cracking loudly. He straightened up, pulled his robe closed, tucked his feet up onto the chair, hugged his knees and looking over them at Credence expectedly.

Credence stared at him for a moment before looking back down at his hands again.

“I was wondering...about the uh. Wardrobe, sir.”

“It’s just Newt, Credence. And I'm sorry about the wardrobe. I suppose I should have warned you, but it slipped my mind. It can be a little...forward. As it were. It was my Uncle Edwin’s. It seems to have somehow inherited some of his eccentricities. Did it try to give you a load of brocade and velvet?” Newt cocked and eyebrow and smiled when Credence nodded. “Actually, I’m surprised it gave you anything but! Must have liked you.”

“I think so. It...waggled.” As soon as he said it, Credence felt foolish, but when he glanced up, Newt was nodding thoughtfully.

“I’ve often wondered about some of the charms we put on things. Changing the nature of a thing, and imbuing it with magic and the ability to learn preferences and things. Look at that wardrobe. You couldn’t ever convince me it doesn’t have character. I wonder if it might be classifiable in some way…”

“The way creatures are?” Credence asked, holding up the book. It was open to chapter ten, the first three pages of which were some of the only information in the entire Hogwarts curricula that covered magical creatures at all.

“Yes. Three classifications: Beast, Being, and Spirit. Woefully inadequate.”

Credence nodded.

“I guess beasts alone could be classified a dozen different ways.” He murmured. “And Spirit? Or Being? I mean… They don’t talk about what classification Obscurials are for instance…”

“Beasts,” breathed Newt, wincing. “Those who know about them disagree, but the same rules, or lack of rules that apply to magical beasts apply to Obscurials. As far as the Ministry’s concerned.”

“I am not a beast.” Credence stated flatly.

“No. You most certainly are not.” Newt said with deep conviction. “And someday, that classification will change.”

“I started writing some notes--” Credence twisted his hands nervously. “About...changing. And, um. Clothing? Is that the kind of thing that--”he trailed off.

“That is exactly the kind of thing we need to know!” Newt crowed. “That’s marvelous! What is it like?”

Credence flushed and stared at his hands. Newt was about to withdraw his question when Credence shook his head slightly.

“It’s terrifying. At least at first. Last night I started to worry because I realized that I might never be able to get rid of that suit. The more upset I got, the harder it was to...to hold myself together. Sort of painful. And so I told myself what you said- that I couldn't do any harm in...in the bubble. I just had to keep repeating that and, when I let go on my own, it was--” Credence looked up. He was smiling.

“It was wonderful. Sort of...warm. I didn’t think very much all night till I realized I was already thinking. And it was like- it was like forming thoughts with words sort of put me back together again and the more I thought and the more I wanted to...I don’t know...the more real I became. And I remembered what you said about the rooms, and why they looked like I imagined they should. So I just imagined myself without the suit and…” Credence’s smile faltered but Newt didn’t notice. His mind was already racing.

“So it really does all come down to focus. Like spell casting. Of course, if you imagined yourself with no clothes, you wouldn't have any. And now you can have any sort you want.” He paused and frowned. But why didn’t you just-”

“Because I don’t know anything about clothes and if I tried to..disappear and reappear I’d probably still end up with that suit.” Credence said in a rush. “And I sort of...like the idea of wearing actual clothes.” He finished up, his cheeks flushing as he twisted his hands in his lap.

It occured to Newt that this line of questioning was becoming uncomfortable.

“Marvelous. Well. Time to feed the animals!” he said, jumping up. “I’m going to change. You go start with Fuzzy and her family. Grubs are in the keg behind the nest.”

The pattern they set that day repeated itself more or less for the rest of the journey. Credence typically became aware before Newt woke, and made breakfast and read until Newt came down and they made the rounds. 

Credence had an amazing memory for details, and quickly began taking over more of the animal-related chores, always accompanied by Fuzzy, who perched on his shoulder or on his head and commented silently on everything he did. Newt often overheard Credence confiding in her as he worked. Sharing a theory here, or voicing an opinion there. The amount of information he was absorbing was astounding to Newt. In a little under a week, Credence had all but mastered the foundation of magic theory.

Credence’s willingness and ability to take over at least part of the care of the animals allowed Newt extra time to get to work sorting through his notes and furnishing the study. 

In the evenings, they’d sit in the kitchen or in the library and eventually Credence would ask Newt questions about what he was learning. His questions were always astute, and several times, Newt had to make a note to contact this or that acquaintance about specific questions for which he had no good answer. 

These were invariably questions about the mechanics of magic, or about the way in which spells were cast. He was sure that Credence was already forming up a theory about how his abilities differed from the majority of witches and wizards, but that he was too unsure about it to pass by Newt. Newt didn’t press. He hated it when people bothered him about his work. His publisher had found that out the hard way.

The morning of the fifth day, however, was different. As Newt consumed his morning tea, he considered how to broach what he imagined might be a touchy subject. Finally, he decided he was over complicating things.

“I need go outside today, to get some things that we need.” He said. Credence stilled. “I was thinking, would you like to come with me? It might be nice to get some fresh air, and I find the ocean to be rather magnificent, as long as the weather’s fine.”

What he didn’t say was that he suspected that, given too much time away from people, Credence would eventually develop issues readjusting to the greater world. Newt couldn’t blame him, after all he’d been through.

After a moment, Credence looked up. His expression was set, almost defiant.

“I’ll go with you,” he said quietly.” Then, “Are there other magical folk on board?”

“There may be,” Newt answered, scratching his head. “I’m not sure. But it’s a big ship and there’s literally thousands of people on her. It’s unlikely that we’d be noticed, even if there were witches or wizards. We can head out after taking care of the animals. The Wardrobe will be pleased at least. You’ll finally get to wear some of those clothes it’s been pushing on you.”

For Credence, the chores were accomplished far too quickly. Before he knew it, he was standing next to a rack of clothes, trying to decide what would he could wear that would bring him the least amount of attention. In the end, he settled on a dark grey tweed suit with a white shirt and dark tie. He shucked his soiled clothing and threw them into the bowels of the wardrobe.

He slid his arms into the shirt and was surprised by the smoothness of the fabric. It slid against his skin and warmed quickly. The fit was perfect. The cuffs rested just as where they should. The fabric sleeked against his ribs, fitting snugly across his chest as he buttoned it. The trousers were lined with the softest satin and hugged the curves of his legs. He found himself standing straighter, feeling inexplicably better about himself. He thought that, if he were to see someone so attired, he wouldn’t give them a second look. 

He bent over and tied the laces of his shining black boots. The leather was softer than the gloves he’d once had. He turned back to the mirror and frowned. The only tangible remnant of Ma's influence, besides the pale outlines of scars that stubbornly continued to re-appear on his flesh, was the horrible haircut.

He ran his fingers through his hair. It hadn't always been so short. Ma'd caught him staring into the small mirror in their house one day, smoothing his hair back with water, attempting to look more like one of the gentlemen he saw every day on the corner where he'd been told to stand and hand out flyers.

She’d slapped his face and pulled him physically into the dining room. In front of all the urchins she occasionally fed, she had upended one of the porridge bowls and forced him to his knees in front of her. She had plunked that bowl down upon his head and shorn his hair around the shallow circumference as he wept, ranting all the while about the dangers of vanity and how it was a sin.

Credence relaxed his jaw when he realized he was grinding his teeth. I was hard to think of her...hard to think of what his life had been like until very, very recently. It made him furious. He scrubbed his hands through his hair violently, wishing there was some way to expunge that last obvious physical reminder of the abuse he had endured.

"Credence?" Newt called from just outside the door. "Not to rush you, but... We need to leave soon if we're to make it in time to buy what we need,"

Credence winced and scrubbed at his eyes.

"Just a moment, please" he called. He struggled to breathe in and out calmly, just as he'd done when he'd needed to hide certain things from his sisters. "I'll be right out."

He ran his hands through his hair again, and halted abruptly. Cautiously, he lifted shaking fingers to his forehead, displacing a heavy mop of silky strands.

Hesitantly, almost afraid of what he'd find, he glanced sidelong into the mirror.

Newt startled at the sudden whoop that issued forth from Credence's room. The door flew open and Credence himself stood framed in it, all but unrecognizable. A thick mane of wavy hair framed his elated face.

"Look!" he shouted. Newt looked.

"Now that," he said, eyeing Credence with approval "Is what I call a result." 

Credence flashed him a grin and Newt smiled, tilting his head up fractionally to make eye contact. "You're really quite tall," he commented. "When you stand up straight like that. I had no idea. And your hair! I honestly didn't know if it would grow, to tell you the truth. I hoped you'd be able to sort it out," His eyes widened and he looked away. "For your own sake, of course! I gathered it wasn’t what you, um...It wasn’t that it was bad. Not, really. As such."

"Newt, it was horrible." Credence blushed, but grinned wider. “It was a punishment. And now it’s over.”

"It was a-- Alright. Yes, it was rather horrible. You look- well." Newt said. He stared at the ceiling wishing something random would happen to break the thickness that gathered in the air between them.

"We should go-"

"Yes! Yes," Newt nodded vigorously as he turned and hightailed it down the stairs and out the door, trying to gather his thoughts as he made his way towards the ladder that would bring them out of the case for the first time in days.

By the time Credence caught up with him, he'd managed to comb his hair back from his forehead, but it was so thick and curly it kept falling forward.

"Rather bohemian," Newt said, absently, smiling slightly..

"Is that.."

"Good. It's quite...good."

Credence looked pleased.

Newt suddenly found himself in great need of a bit of fresh air.

"Shall we?" He asked, pulling down the ladder. He was gratified by the firmness of Credence's nod. Privately, he knew that leaving the case was going to be a trial, but for the first time, he was fairly confident that both he and Credence were up for the challenge.

Newt emerged from the case and leaned down to lend Credence a hand, as the young man levered himself up the last rungs of the ladder. Leaving the case could be a smidge disorienting, and he let the young man have. a few moments to regain his feet before moving to exit the boat.

"It's...moving?" Credence asked after a moment. "I mean, I know it is," he followed up swiftly, embarrassed. "Obviously, we're floating, but..I never felt it in the case."

Newt nodded.

"Part of the enchantments. I had to clean up after Berta was seasick once. It seemed prudent to try and avoid a repeat of that event." Newt grinned tightly at the memory and then chuckled along with a burst of laughter that escaped from Credence's lips. He wondered if he'd ever get used to Credence presenting what should be totally typical, human reactions. He hoped devoutly that such things would become commonplace in the future. But for now he was content to enjoy each move in the right direction, regardless of how small it might seem.

"Ready?" he asked, his hand on the cabin door. Credence nodded firmly, but his smile faltered.

"It'll be alright," Newt said softly. "Just a quick trip above decks and then to the refectory to get some fruit and things. We'll be back before you know it." Credence nodded again and his lips quirked back towards some semblance of a smile.

"I think I'll be fine," he said.

Newt nodded and opened the door. After a quick check to make sure they were alone in the passage way, he walked briskly towards the aft end of the ship, following the signs for the stairs.

"Oh,"

Newt grinned at Credence's soft exhalation as he pushed through the door and stood on the sundrenched deck, momentarily shocked into stillness.

"It's beautiful, isn’t it?” Newt said, staring at the dazzling, crystalline sparkling of the sun against the water. Passengers lined the deck, congregating in small groups or couples, leaning slightly into the wind that whipped across the deck. Dresses and suit coats flapped in the salty breeze, and the sound of the waves stroking against the bow of the ship far below drowned out most other sounds.

Credence nodded blankly and Newt laid a gentle hand on his elbow, guiding him towards an open spot along the rail.

Vast blue waves spread out from the frothy skirt of waves surrounding the hull. Credence stared and stared at the unending stretch of water. He felt clean, finally, purified by the stark beauty of an unending ocean. After a bit, Newt leaned towards him.

"Alright?" he asked, having to shout just to hear himself over the roar of the wind.

Credence glanced over at him, his eyes glistening from under the wind-blown waves of his hair.

"Yes!" he shouted back, then grinned at his own outburst. "This is--" Words seemed to fail him, but Newt nodded, understanding. He jumped slightly at a sudden pressure on his arm. Credence had gripped his elbow, where it rested against the handrail, and leaned in close. Newt realized it was the very first time he’d instigated physical contact. He smiled.

"Thank you," Credence said, his expression suddenly fierce. "If nothing as amazing ever happens again, I've seen this, and I thank you for that."

"You're welcome." Newt answered. He covered Credence's hand and squeezed back, before gripping the handrail loosely as the ship rolled.

They stood watching the waves pass by for some time, feeling the sun beat down on their backs. Newt wondered absently if Credence could get burnt by the sun. Regardless, he knew he could, and absurdly easily at that. Reluctantly, he tapped Credence’s arm and jerked his head towards where he assumed the refectory was.

Credence immediately turned away from the water and followed Newt rather closely as they made their way down the deck.

The refectory was crowded with people. Newt kept a weather eye on Credence, but he seemed unaffected, staring somewhat blankly past the long line snaking towards the steam table and small cart loaded down with apples, carrots and a few other vegetables. They made it back to the cabin without incident.

“You know, you can go up any time you like,” Newt said as he set their purchases down on the table. 

Credence stared at him and then nodded hastily.

“Seriously, Credence, you are free to do anything you like. Anything at all,” Newt said gently. “Except, obviously, magic. At least out there. If we do magic in front of muggles, we need to make them forget about it. Obliviate, is the spell. It’s a complicated, and I can teach it to you, but we might want to cover some of the basics first.” Newt pulled an apple from the sack and set it on the table, and pulled his wand from his pocket.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” He said, flicking the wand. The apple dutifully rose from the table and hovered in the air. Credence stared at it in awe. Even surrounded as he was by magical phenomena, Credence was still utterly captivated by actual spells. 

Newt smiled. “This was one of the first spells they teach us at Hogwarts. The hardest part is the wrist flick.” he released the apple and held out his wand to Credence, who stared at it, open mouthed. “Go ahead,” Newt said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Credence stared a moment longer, then grinned. He plucked the wand out of Newt’s hand and contemplated the apple.

“Wingardium leviosa,” Newt repeated, enunciating clearly and miming the movements. Credence copied his movements while mouthing the words, frowning in concentration.

“Ready?” Newt said after a few moments. Credence nodded.

“Wingardium leviosa,” He said firmly. Newt had just enough time to admire how well Credence articulated the spell before it exploded in the air between them. The apple disintegrated in a shower of sparks and the the teapot shattered. The shards and the table itself were driven straight at Newt, who was blown violently backward, pinned between the heavy table and the cabinets. Smoke bloomed through the air. 

“Newt!” Credence called. It sounded like he was somewhere in the vicinity of the living room, but it was hard for Newt to tell. Sharp pain shot through his chest as he tried to inhale. He was unsurprised but extremely worried to realize he could not draw breath. His vision tunneled.

Credence materialized in the smoke before him, his face a mask of fear. The table was no longer pinning him, but he hardly noticed because of the pain.

“I’m so sorry!” Credence fell to his knees beside Newt. “I didn’t-”

“Wand!” Newt gasped, holding out his hand. Credence quickly placed the wand into his outstretched fingers. Newt pointed it at his chest and gasped “Ferula!” then cried out and arched in pain as his ribs jerked back into their proper place. He squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitable tears.

Air flooded into his lungs as he gasped in relief. He felt gentle hands brush his hair away from him forehead and winced as he realized how much everything hurt. Now that he could breathe, a myriad of other pains made themselves known. He felt shards of crockery crunching beneath his hand where it rested on the floor and felt sure there was a fair amount buried in his skin wherever it was exposed.

“You’re bleeding, Newt. I’m so sorry, I don’t know--” Credence’s sobbed.

“It’s alright Credence.” Newt whispered hoarsely, wincing. “It happens, sometimes, when-”

He broke off, startled by a totally unexpected sound. Credence was … humming. Crooning, Newt corrected himself. Credence was crooning softly to himself while he stroked gentle fingers across Newt’s brow. 

It was a small, distressed sound, and Newt tried to find it within himself to open his eyes and properly deal with the situation, but it felt so good to just sit, crumpled on the floor where he’d fallen, and feel Credence’s touch feathering over his face and neck and hands, where the shattered crockery had lanced into his skin. Warmth flooded through him, the physical analog to an accompanying sense of general well-being.

Abruptly, and all too soon, Credence stopped touching him and Newt heard him plop back onto the floor in front of him.

After a moment, Newt opened his eyes and gazed at Credence, who was staring down at his blood-covered fingers.

“Did you just--” He raised tentative fingers to where the gash should have been on his brow. The blood was still there, warm and sticky, but no underlying wound. Just smooth, unmarred skin. 

Newt felt his heart start to pound. 

“Did you just heal me?”

“Yes?” Credence said uncertainty. “At least---I think I must have.”

“That’s--” Newt held up his unblemished hands and examined them, then slid those uncut digits down his neck, taking stock of the fresh blood and total lack of obvious injury. 

“You didn’t even need to use a spell…” He breathed. “That’s incredible! Wandless magic is really advanced stuff! Here, try to pick up the table.” Newt looked eagerly up at Credence, so excited by the possibilities that he didn’t stop to think about the request.

Credence looked panicked for a moment, then thoughtful. He got to his feet and stood in the center of the wrecked room.

It wasn’t just the crockery that had exploded with the impact of the misfiring spell. It was… pretty much everything. Chairs had crunched and splintered. The other end of the sturdy oak table had slammed into the Aga, severely denting it. Shelves listed lazily against the wall, the cups and plates that had rested upon them lay broken on the floor.

Credence stared at the wreckage he’d caused and felt as horrible as anyone could feel. He looked down at his hands and rubbed his fingers together. They were still covered in Newt’s blood… blood from injuries he’d caused. Bitter tears flooded his eyes, but before they had a chance to fall, he shut them and focused.

With painstaking attention to detail, he imagined the room as it had been before the spell. He imagined the cozy, warm, slightly shabby kitchen where he’d sat in the evenings talking quietly, that he’d tidied up while Newt wasn’t looking. He imagined the grain of the wood in the table, rippling like hard water under his fingertips, the neat rows of mugs in the shelf, the purring Aga, giving off the dull, comforting glow of warmth, the brightly painted walls.

He spread his hands out as if to run his fingers over the furniture, as if by stoking the air, he could bring it all back.

Newt gasped and watched in jaw-dropped wonder as the detritus from the explosion began to rise. Splintered wood and chipped crockery floated slowly into the air and began to swirl around Credence. Pieces and parts of it started to coalesce.

Dust reformed into plaster chips that became slabs that fit their way back onto the wall like giant puzzle pieces. Table legs jerked themselves back under the table and reattached and, as Credence lifted his hands, chairs reassembled in mid air. The giant table groaned and righted itself and the heavy, cast iron frame of the aga popped with a deafening report as it undented itself.

Shards of porcelain and crockery flew into small, spinning balls which gradually shaped themselves into cups, saucers and the giant teapot which floated, rotating gently just in front of Newts face. As he reached towards it, it zipped back over to the table upon which it had sat. The table slid into place in the center of the room and the chairs placed themselves, one of them nudging Credence over a step so as to slide into place.

All was still.

Credence opened his eyes and looked around, then turned to Newt with a blinding smile. 

“I did it!” He cried. Then, abruptly, he stumbled and fell against the table. Newt scrambled to his feat, reaching Credence just in time to catch him as his knees buckled completely.

“Tired,” Credence groaned. He leaned against Newt. “Too tired to-- I’m sorry,” He let his head flop back and listed in Newt’s arms, his eyes rolling up into his head. “I can’t hold--” Credence’s voice was a husk of a whisper. Before Newt could reply, Credence abruptly dematerialized.

Newt stood bewildered, his arms wrapped loosely around the bubble that held the Obscurial.

“What on earth? Credence?” 

Newt murmured. Anxiety quickly blossomed into controlled panic. He’d never seen Credence dematerialize so abruptly, though on reflection it was a damn sight better than the convulsions the poor man had gone through in times previous, but something about this was very wrong. Credence had not made a conscious decision to let go. He’d simply been too overtaxed to hold himself together anymore. That should not have happened.

Newt was at a loss. The execution of a spell, even one that went pear-shaped, should not have ennervated Credence to this extent. Spells rarely caused actual physical exhaustion. 

The Obscurial floated inert in the center of the bubble, looking as small and faint as it had in the New Salemer house. It gave absolutely no sign of recognition- no tendrils floating outwards- nothing. 

But more than the evidence of his own eyes, Newt realized that the feel of Credence, the subtle awareness of the man he hadn’t realized he had acquired, was gone.

Newt fought back a new wave of panic on the off chance that Credence could still observe him.

“Well,” He said thickly. “What’s the worst that could happen. Famous last words.” He relinquished his hold on the bubble and it drifted placidly and passively in place, bobbing slightly as he disengaged.

Credence became aware of the fact that he was observing Newt, and that he didn’t much like what it was he was sensing. Newts energy, usually a bright, fiery trail of sparking light, was reduced to a dull brown glow.

Though it was extremely tiring, Credence summoned up the will to look. Newt was sitting by the table his head cupped in his hands, staring at Credence with large, glistening eyes. His mouth was moving. Abruptly, sight was too difficult to maintain. Credence tried to listen instead. It was somewhat easier. Slowly Newt's voice trickled into his consciousness.

“...lie, something is very wrong. I have no idea what drained you so much- I haven’t a clue what to do to help you recover. When we land, I will take you straight to Norah McTire. She’s studied Obscurials and other spiritual phenomena and if anyone can figure out what’s gone wrong, it’ll be her. For now, just… rest. Don’t expend any energy. I’m worried that- I’m just worried…”

Absently, Credence wished he could tell Newt that he understood, that he would comply, if only because he had no other option. Being diffuse was his only option, and he hadn't even the energy to worry about it. He lacked the strength to even continue making thoughts. As he drifted into a warm, comfortable haze, his last thought was that it was probably a blessing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt surprises himself, we find out a lot more about the nature of Obscurials, and learn about the terrible events in Africa.

The last few days of the journey was utter misery for Newt. Credence showed no sign of awareness as time passed, even when Newt took him along on feeding rounds.

Newt found that he missed Credence desperately, which surprised him. He had always been solitary and, due to the nature of his work, he was accustomed to leaving behind new friends. Many of those acquaintances had lasted far longer than his association with Credence, but he’d never suffered their loss the same way.

He found himself looking up periodically, hoping to catch a glimpse of black shirt tails as Credence moved about the habitats or hear the startled, joyful laugh that always accompanied the discovery of some new facet of an animal or magical phenomena. He hadn’t realized how intently he’d been observing his friend, keeping watch for the smallest signs of emotional progress that heralded Credence’s distancing from his horrific past.

Most of all, Newt was shocked to realize how much he missed physical contact. He found that, though he had always shied away from casual touch, he now longed for the quick, small gestures that had quickly become commonplace in a very short amount of time; the reassuring pressure on his elbow that signaled that Credence could handle the rest of whatever he was teaching him to do, or the soft-steady sweep of his fingers as he plucked straw or some other piece of animal-borne detritus off Newt’s shirt or hair. Newt had never given a thought to how Credence had always instigated those small touches and now berated himself for not being more observant.

The waiting wore on him as well, especially after he began to suspect that the Obscurial in the bubble was diminishing slowly. There was no good way to measure this, but he got the distinct feeling that the floating shadow had begun to shrink. He wrote a carefully worded letter to Norah McTire, offering to provide her with information about the ordeal in Africa, but carefully hedged around topic of Credence, alluding to an obscurial-specific problem but leaving out the details. He didn’t know how much about what had happened in New York got into the press and he didn’t want anyone at all knowing that the Obscurial involved in that ordeal was his companion. He received an extremely quick response by flue instructing him to make his way to her address as soon as possible, and to be prepared to leave behind a memory of that awful event. He’d turned the letter over and over in his hands, frowning at the tone. Still, given the amount of help he was going to ask her for in return, should she prove trustworthy, he could hardly begrudge her that.

Immediately upon landfall, he’d sent an owl to Norah McTire to alert her of his imminent arrival and, travel weary though he was, he set out for Scotland from the very docks upon which he’d landed. Half way through the last leg of his voyage, he came into range for safe apparation. Six in the morning found him clutching his case in his hands and struggled for balance on the rolling, stormswept deck of the small Scotland-bound steamer. As sure as he was sure of his footing, he disapperated.

~~~

Nora McTire was not in the habit of admitting guests. The older she got, the less and less she wanted anything to do with the living. Spirits and spiritual phenomena were just so much more interesting. And they so rarely wanted anything. Death tended to kill ambition, greed, and passion alike. With a few exceptions.

However, she’d sensed from this Scamander’s letters something of a kindred spirit. Of course, his passion was for beasts, which was ridiculous, but that still made him a bit of an odd one, something of a pariah. And his tale of the African obscurus! Knowing more about that was worth giving up her treasured solitude all by itself. After he’d agreed to leave her a memory of the event and she’d agreed immediately to helping him with his “current conundrum” whatever that could be.

She had, however, no idea what sort of a man to expect and when she opened the front door to her lonely house, she was disappointed.

“I thought you’d be— oh, I don’t know. Bigger. Tougher looking.”

Newt stood in the rain on Norah McTire’s doorstep, trying and failing to find a good response to that observation.

“Oh, come in anyway.” Norah moved back from the door and stood within the gloomy entryway. “Reggie?” She called, her voice shrill. “Visitors!”

Newt staggered slightly as he found himself enveloped in a cold gust of air that pulled at his scarf and coat. He allowed these items to be removed, but stubbornly clung to his suitcase as what he suspected was a ghost tried to tug it from his grasp.

“Oh, leave it, Reggie, if he wants to keep it,” Norah said testily, then beckoned Newt to follow her further into the house.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me with such short notice,” Newt said politely as he followed her. “I’ve followed your work rather closely, especially of late.”

Norah cast a calculating glance at him over her shoulder as she led him down a hallway past several shadowy rooms. The hallway emptied out into a butler’s pantry and then into a rather cozy kitchen.

“It’s the only habitable room besides my bedroom, and you won’t be going there,” she said as she moved toward the large wood stove in the corner.

“No, of course not.” Newt said awkwardly. “I’ve my own accommodations, you see. No worries at all.”

"Mmm, yes. You mentioned. I expect a bit of a tour at some point." Norah pulled a massive cast iron kettle over the stove's burner.

"Um, certainly." Newt said uncertainly.

"Have a seat." Norah waved vacantly at the massive trestle table that clearly also served as dining table. Newt sat on the bench by the table and placed his case carefully next to himself, checking the latches absently while he observed his hostess.

She was older than he expected. Her pure white hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a random assortment of colors and textures in layers of dress and sweater. She had a rather harsh expression when she was not paying attention to anything in particular. Newt smiled to himself. He couldn’t help thinking that she looked like what most muggles thought of when they thought “witch.”

Norah continued her preparations in silence, for which Newt was grateful. He was strung so tight with the pressure of all the questions for which he needed the answers, that he could barely contain himself.

Finally, she sat down at the table with a large pot of tea and slid a plate of biscuits across the wide expanse of the table.

"You'll have to excuse me," She said after a few moments. "I'm not much of a hostess. I rarely see anyone here. Don't want to. Don't need to. I have companionship, after a fashion."

Newt nodded. This was definitely something he understood. Norah stared at him as he sipped his tea.

"So, down to business.” She said abruptly. “Tell me about Africa, and then we can discuss whatever your ‘more recent conundrum” is, and I can help you, and you can leave."

Newt nodded slowly. That was the deal, and he could see no way around it.

"There was a girl," he began. "Her name...was Aliyya." He swallowed again. "You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t spoken of this to anyone since it happened...not really.” Norah nodded impatiently, but to her credit, she stayed quiet.

“I had heard tales of her while I was in Sudan, trying to find a Nundu breeding pair. The stories were your typical rot. She was a witch, she'd killed her husband, caused stillbirths, made the cattle die. Horrible things to blame a child for. She was only eight."

"Eight! That's quite old, for an obscurus. She must have been very powerful indeed," Newt scowled down at his hands. He didn’t care for Norah’s tone. He reminded himself that she hadn’t gone through the ordeal, hadn’t befriended the girl in her prison hovel or watched her die. For her, this was an academic curiosity, rather than personal.

"She was. She used magic almost intuitively. That was the problem.”

Norah nodded pensively and sipped her tea.

“What kinds of things happened?” Norah asked after a time.

“According to her, mostly good things,” Newt murmured. “She told me that once, during the rainy season, her cousin was caught in a sinkhole. She said she made a branch grow log enough to reach him. No one believed him afterwards, but her father beat her anyway. Beat her for saving him. He’d have beaten her no matter what, she said, for being wicked.”

“And...when did it go really wrong?” Norah asked. Newt thought he heard a note of sympathy in her voice. It was possible she was not as unaffected as he’d thought.

“When…” Newt tuttered to a stop, then forced himself to keep talking. “She was, um. Betrothed. They do that there, but she was young, even for them. The man was old and unkind. They’re supposed to wait… until, well. Until their wives are old enough to-- but. I suppose he tried to--”

Newt stopped talking. He tired to take a sip of tea, but his hands were too unsteady.

“He surprised her one night. She was frightened, and furious, and reacted. He died instantly. But it wasn’t her fault! It wasn’t--”

“Of course it wasn’t!” Norah exclaimed. “No one in their right mind would think that it was.”

Newt nodded and after a moment was able to sip his tea.

“They had her caged.” He murmured after some time. “In a hut. In a wooden cage. She could have-- she was so strong. But she didn’t know her strength, and she was so afraid of hurting someone else-- she wouldn’t leave. And the obscurus-- it was so close to the surface, towards the end. If she was in any way agitated, it would begin to take her over. It terrified her.”

“Her obscurus. It was trying to protect her,” Norah muttered. She had been listening, totally rapt.

“Yes,” Newt nodded. “Though, I wouldn't have recognized that fact had I not read your monograph on the topic,”

“Oh, that.” Norah muttered. “I’m surprised you could find a copy! I had to pay to get it printed, rather than the other way ‘round. Five years’ worth of research, and no one would believe me.” She pounded her palm again the table in frustration.

“We have some common ground, there. It’s not the best feeling in the world. But your work made me think that, in the case of an obscurus, the- uh. Magic- or, the non-magic power becomes something apart. Something that is always there, but not always active- unlike a healthy wizard’s magic.

“Yes!” Norah shouted. Newt jerked backwards but Norah didn’t even notice. “That’s it exactly! That’s what I can’t get anyone to accept. All of our magic, all of it, is a thing apart from us. You so have a way with words, my boy. And you thought, I suppose, that you could remove the malign power?”

“Exactly,” Newt said. “I asked her if she would come with me, if I could make sure she could never hurt anyone again. I created a...habitat of sorts. To house the obscurus, to keep it safe.” Newt rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Hold on just a bloody moment,” Norah leaned across the table. “Are you telling me, young man, that you successfully created a means of containing an obscurus? The actual spectral residue?”

Newt dropped his eyes and stared at the whorls in the woodgrain of the table.

“Yes. I couldn’t risk setting it loose- though I didn’t know if it would survive on its own.”

“Of course it would,” Norah said promptly. “Though, ‘survive’ implies it was ever alive and--”

 

“It wasn’t,” Newt said, his voice cracking. “Yes, I know that now, but at the time, I thought- it was best. I came to Aliyya in the night, when the village was asleep.

“I knew her time was growing short. They had stopped feeding her, and would surely notice that she was surviving off of the food I brought her. Though, she would only eat when she absolutely could not hold back- she was convinced that she was evil. That she was supposed to die.”

“How did you plan to draw out the obscurus?” Norah demanded.

Newt shook his head miserably. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I came to her. But, as it turned out, it didn’t matter. Her brother had observed my previous visit and he and a number his family were there when I apperated into the hut. They had done---they’d done terrible things to her, trying to find out who I was. She protected me and--” Newt felt tears slip down his cheeks.

“She didn’t kill them when they hurt her,” Norah murmured.

“No! She held on...she kept control even when they-

 

“No need to get into that, Newt,” Norah said quietly. She reached over and gripped his hand. “I think I get the picture.”

Newt nodded gratefully and gathered his wits. “I was surrounded and they didn’t give me any time to protect myself. They just attacked me. And, Aliyya let loose. They all died, and I- I think I would have too, but at the last moment, I was able to conjure the habitat and it sucked in the obscurus. By the time I was able to reach Aliyya, she was dead. One of them had managed to stab her through the cage.”

“But the obscurus?” Nora hissed. Newt jerked his hand from her grasp and scowled down at the table.

“It remained in the habitat. As far I as I could tell, it was unaware, insensate.”

Nora nodded and then grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” She said “You must think I’m an absolute beast. But you must understand. This is a particular passion of mine. And you are perhaps the only person who has ever been able to experience the appearance of an obscurus, let alone interact so closely with one. If I seem overeager, please forgive me. I am sympathetic in my own way.”

Newt nodded blankly, still caught in the horror of his memory. Norah nodded to herself.

“It makes sense that the obscurus, lacking a host, became docile. With nothing to protect, it lost the purpose that underpinned its existence. I have often believed that, if these poor children, these Obscurials, were able to live longer, to develop a stronger sense of self… a stronger personality, that they would be able to transcend their own deaths- to use the obscurus to protect their souls.”

Newt’s heart leaped.

“What would happen to such an Obscurial?” Newt asked, then mentally kicked himself for being so transparent. “Hypothetically,”

Norah stared at him for a long moment and he did his flat best to maintain eye contact.

“Hypothetically?” She paused, studying his face. “I have no idea. Theoretically, the unfortunate youngster would be preserved. But at a terrible cost. You see, the body provides a place for the power. In a healthy wizard, his magic draws energy from his body and is rejuvenated. We do not notice the toll our spells take on us because we are in balance. But an Obscurial without a body, well. There is nothing to rejuvenate it’s magic. It would only be a matter of time before the magic is used up and the poor thing just...ceases to exist. Newt? Young man, are you quite well?”

Newt had dropped his cup. It clattered against the table, but he hardly noticed.

“I’ve killed him,” he said.

“Killed whom?” Norah asked sharply. “How?”

Newt was still reeling in shock, but his brain kept ticking along, kept making sense out of all the things he wished he didn’t know, things he wished were not true. Credence had only had a finite amount of magic to use to stay alive, and he’d encouraged him to use it to clean up a damned kitchen!

“Newt!” He realized that Norah was shouting at him, her face butted right up in front of his. “Do you have an Obscurial in that case of yours? I need to see it!”

“Why?” Newt leapt to his feet, suddenly enraged. “So you can poke it and prod it into non existence? It’s a he, not an it! And he is not a test subject! And if you think for one second that I’m going to--” Newt found himself jerked to his feet. For an old woman, Norah was extremely strong.

“You idiot boy. I want to save him!” Nora hissed, clinging to his lapels. Newt was torn. He stared at the fierce face of the woman in front of him and found little he could trust.

“In exchange for what?” He snapped. “How can I trust you? You use captive ghosts as servants!”

Newt stumbled back, caught off guard by Nora’s sudden bark of laughter.

“Is that what you think?” She crowed, releasing him. “You’re going to feel extremely stupid in a second, boy. Reggie?”

Next to her, the air seemed to shimmer, and then to congeal, to grow opaque. A few seconds later, a tall, dour looking man stood beside her. He was glaring down at her.

“I’ve been here the whole time, you know,” he said. “It was all I could do not to impose. You’re really being inexcusably rude to our guest.”

Newt stared at him blankly.

“Pardon me,” the apparition said. “Where are my manners? I’m Reginald McTire. I’m this unprincipled woman’s husband. Or was until my departure from this world.”

“I’ll give you unprincipled.” Norah muttered. “Satisfied, Newt? As if I’d pressgang the spirits I study into doing anything! D’you really think my house would be in such a state if I had a legion of ghosts to do my bidding?”

“Yes,” Reginald broke in, sparing Newt from having to come up with an answer. “You’d have them doing any number of other things, but housework would not figure prominently into their tasks.”

“That’s why I always had you around, Reggie.” Norah said. Newt was sure he didn’t imagine the strain of sadness in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” He said quickly. “I didn’t think. But I before I tell you more, I want your word that you will not try to…experiment on him or…” Newt petered off, not able to voice his exact anxieties. It was only hat he’d met many witches and wizards like Norah at the ministry. They tended to forget the people or beings thoughts and feelings as hey barged down the road to discovery. He couldn’t allow that to happen to Credence.

“You have my word, Newt. I certainly have questions, and I’ll want a chance to ask them, but I assure you, I would never do anything to cause further trauma to someone who has been through as much as these children have.”

Newt frowned, but nodded. It’s not as if he had a lot of choice. He wished he could trust Norah. He wanted to, but something about the sharpness in her eyes and her mannerisms made him extremely uncomfortable.

“Alright.” He said, deflating a bit. Norah nodded sharply and jerked her head over her shoulder. “Follow me and tell me what has happened on the way.”

Newt trailed behind her and explained, to the best of his ability, about Credence. He paused as they entered into what was clearly a laboratory. Work benches lined the walls and were covered in a mess of various arcane objects most of which Newt could not even guess the purpose.

Nora made her way directly to a cabinet against the far wall and pulled out a multi-part contraption made up of crystals on telescoping tripods of some type. She shoved the pieces unceremoniously into Newt’s arms and made her way over to another cabinet where she removed a number of other small objects. One of them looked like a large marble. She handled it with care, wrapping it in a scrap of paper before placing it in her pocket.

“Alright, young man. I believe it will be beneficial if the Obscurial materializes in familiar surroundings. Let’s go into this case of yours and fix the mess you’ve made. Or at least try to.”

“Do you think we- that it may not work?” Newt asked uncertainty as he followed Norah back to the kitchen and his case.

“How should I know? This is all strictly theoretical. There’s never been an obscurus or an Obscurial in such a situation. They’re either alive and causing havoc, or quiescent, like you described Aliyya. I have no idea what kind of state this one is in. We’ll know more once I run some tests.”

Newt juggled the contraption in his arms as he placed the case on the floor and opened the top.

“Watch your step, please,” he said, ducking down the steep stairs into his workshop.

Norah cursed under her breath as she slipped on a step, but made it down without incident.

“Merlin’s beard!” She exclaimed as Newt led her out of the workshop. “Did you do this all yourself?”

Newt nodded absently looking around. It was strangely quiet. All the animals had been mopey lately and Newt had begun to suspect that they missed Credence as much as he had. But this was different.

Suddenly, Fuzzy zipped through the air and slammed into his shoulder, her talons tearing through his shirt as she caught her balance. She was huffing and puffing her feathers out, and would doubtless be making quite a racket if he could hear it.

“Something’s wrong,” he said and picked up his pace as they approached the house.

“Is that a Fwooper?” Norah exclaimed, following as quickly as she could.

“Yes, it’s Credence’s special, um, friend. Please hurry.” Newt felt ill as he pushed open the door to his house and bolted up the stairs. He paused in the hallway, and opened the door to Credence’s room quietly.

The Obscurial had drifted to the bottom of the bubble and lay there, the barest smear of shadow. Newt placed Norah’s equipment on the bed carefully and turned back, raising the bubble to eye height and searching for signs of movement within the shadow. There were none.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Newt babbled, frantically twisting the bubble this way and that.

“If he was gone, there would be no spectral residue,” Norah said breathlessly from behind him. “He’s still in there. But not for long.”

Newt spun around and glared at her. Her eyes were fixed on the Obscurial, and they were filled with tears.

“No,” he whispered again.

“Here,” Norah reached into her pocket and removed the marble. “There should be enough living energy in this to give him a boost. If you can release it inside the habitat bubble and crush it, he should be able to absorb it. It won’t last long, though. He’s so far gone,” Her voice choked off abruptly.

Wordlessly, Newt took the marble from her and removed his wand from his pocket. He pointed it at the bubble and twisted his hand to the left. The bubble split just where the tip of the wand touched it. Newt reached into the bubble and held the marble. It was warm in his hand.

“Careful,” Norah said. “Don’t touch the Obscurial.”

Newt nodded and winced as he squeezed the marble and felt the hard walls dissolve in a flash of heat. He barely had a chance to jerk his hand away before the shadow tendrils shot upwards, burying themselves in the growing miasma of pearly light that spread over the top of the bubble. The bubble sealed itself with a pop as Newt extracted his hand. He backed up and bumped into Norah, who was watching what was happening in the bubble with hawkish focus.

“What was in that marble?” Newt asked as he watched the light seep into the writhing tendrils.

“I was able to extract the last spark of life from Reggie’s body as he died.” Nora murmured. “Something of a momento.”

Newt whipped his head around and gaped at her. “Norah that’s-”

“Nevermind,” She cut him off sharply, and nodded to the Obscurial. “Watch.”

Newt watched. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the light was absorbed by the shadow which condensed, coalesced, became more or less solid.

Newt reached over and jerked the sheet off of Credence’s bed and swept it over the young man’s naked body before dropping to his knees beside him. He slid an arm under Credence’s shoulders and slid him into a sitting position. Credence was limp and heavy in his arms, but he moved, turning towards him.

“Newt,” Credence whispered. “What...what was that? I’ve been so cold. It was warm- It--” Credence blinked hard, trying to focus on Newt’s face. He raised a hand and observed it’s translucence. “What is happening to me? Why am I not solid?”

Newt felt the words pile up in his throat and crowd his mouth as he opened his mouth to explain. His eyes flooded with tears.

“You… I…”

“Credence, is it?” Nora spoke from behind Newt’s shoulder and Credence raised his eyes fractionally to meet hers.

“I’m Norah. There’s very little time. What Newt can’t bring himself to tell you is that you’re dying. You only had a finite amount of magic to begin with, and you’ve used a large portion of it, healing him and fixing up his kitchen. Make these last moments count, lad.”

“Oh,” Credence said quietly. He smiled slightly. “I didn't’ think I could die,” he said. “That was terrifying.”

Credence reached up and dragged fingers through the tears that poured down Newts cheeks. “It doesn’t hurt.” he whispered. “At least, it doesn’t hurt me. I wish it didn’t hurt you.”

Newt sobbed once, hard, and it seemed to loosen his tongue.

“I’ve missed you so very much. I’m so very sorry, Credence, I never meant for this to happen. I mean to save you.”

“You did save me.” Credence rasped. He dragged in another breath. “You did everything you promised. I am part of the magical world,” A slight smile tugged at his lips and his eyelids sagged.

“You are the quintessence of the magical world,” Newt murmured. “Please stay-” Newt bit his lip to shut himself up, knowing that it was unfair to ask the impossible. Credence turned towards him, tucking his face against Newt’s shoulder. Newt smoothed a hand through his hair and rocked them both.

“I would stay with you if I could,” Credence breathed. He was rapidly losing cohesion. “Nothing in my life has been as amazing as the past week. I want to stay but- I-can’t. I have to let go.”

Newt stared in horror as Credence began to dissipate. The habitat bubble began asserting itself as it was designed to do, rising over the surface of Credence’s skin, separating him from Newt as he lost cohesion. He felt what was left of Credence shiver, then convulse.

“No,” he said, suddenly calm. “No, Credence, absolutely not.” He pulled his wand out and pointed it at the bubble.

“Newt?” Norah placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stop what you’re doing.”

Newt grunted softly and dropped his wand as he struggled to maintain his grip on Credence’s convulsing form.

“Back away, please,” Polite words could not disguise that order.

“Newt, listen, if you do what I think you’re going to do, he _will_ kill you. Even if he survives, how will he live with _that_?”

“Credence will not kill anyone. Certainly not me.” Newt knew the utter truth of that fact as he said it. “He has a truly astonishing amount of self control.”

“Newt, I’m sorry.” Norah sounded genuinely regretful. Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “But I can’t let you do this,”

Without looking at her, he slipped his other hand into his pocket. With a flick of his wrist the swooping evil blossomed forth and wrapped itself around Nora’s body, sending her crashing to the ground behind him, ending whatever attempt she’d been about to make to stop him.

Newt scrabbled around and found his wand. Holding Credence close with one arm under his shoulders, he pointed at the bubble with the wand in his other hand.

“Obcillo Sanctorum!” He shouted. The bubble surrounding Credence glowed and burst with a gentle popping sound. Credence settled back against Newt and stopped convulsing.

Newt felt a wave of cold sweep through him. It felt like standing naked in the bitterest, wettest highland wind. He grit his teeth. This was going to be difficult.

“Newt, what-” Credence voice was barely audible.

“I need you to- um.” Newt smiled tightly and fought down a bout of manic laughter. “Um. Snuggle in, I suppose. Just...get warm. Take some warmth. Alright? Credence, can you do that for me? Please? Please.“

Newt’s voice shook from the shivers that rattled his body. It was unpleasant, and there was clearly some sort of… transfer taking place, but it was not nearly enough, and it was not happening nearly as quickly as it had to. He wondered if Credence was purposefully holding back.

As Newt struggled to find the words to articulate what needed to happen, he smoothed the thick fall of Credence’s hair back from his brow. He felt a jolt of cold as his fingers brushed the bare skin of Credence’s forehead.

“Oh,” he breathed. He tossed his wand aside and clawed one-handed at the collar of his shirt, ripping his bowtie off and tearing at the buttons.

“Credence. Wait. Just- hang on-” He tore open the front of his shirt, pulled the sheet down from Credence’s shoulders, and pulled the limp, almost weightless Obscurial against his bare chest.

Credence cried out and jerked in Newts grasp before flinging his arms around his shoulders and pressing himself closer, burying his face in the crook of Newt’s neck and shoulder. Newt shut his eyes and curled over him, letting waves of freezing cold slam through his body, delighting in the pain because he was beginning to understand what it meant. Between his shivering and sobbing for breath, he was peripherally aware of Norah’s cries from behind him and the steadily increasing weight and solidity of the man in his arms.

  
“Newt,” Credence moaned against his neck. “So- warm. You feel so good.” Newt felt Credence claw at his back and clutched him closer still, burying his face in the silken waves of his hair and stroking solid, warm skin between his shoulder blades shaking hand. He felt light and faint, and wondered absently if he was turning transparent.

  
Everything that was not the blazing form of the Obscurial in his arms faded into indistinguishable shadows and he felt the first flicker of panic. But he was too weak to do anything but lean weakly against Credence.  
“Newt?” He heard Credence’s voice, but could not answer. There were other noises.. Norah’s shouting and something else...

  
Suddenly, he felt Credence jerk away. Unsupported, Newt fell forwards and lay still on the floor, feeling frozen completely through. He became painfully aware of the irregular beating of his heart, the pounding thud of his pulse, echoing in his ears. But it was alright. He’d seen Credence restored. Everything became heavy and dark and muffled. He slept.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt, Credence and Norah form a plan.

Newt was accustomed to finding consciousness when he hadn’t lost it on purpose, but this journey had been different from most.

He dreamed of dark crowds, sliding masses of people with hard, unkind faces. And always ahead of him, just out of reach, the flashing form of a man dressed in black, bright against the dull dark backdrop of unkind humanity, utterly unattainable.

So, rather than a gradual easing of the darkness that muffled his mind and senses, Newt regained consciousness in fits and starts. When at last jerked fully awake, he was still in the grip of his dream and confused by the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Newt!” Relief and worry warred for dominance on Credence’s face as he leaned over Newts bed. “Are you— how do you feel?”

Newt blinked up at him and thought about it.

“Fine,” He rasped, wrinkling his nose at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat. “And extremely relieved. Just look at you. You look well.”

“I am well,”

Credence knelt next to the bed and rested his elbows on the sheets, cupping his chin in his hands as he studied Newt’s face. “Better than well, actually. I haven’t felt this good since— well, maybe ever.”

Newt grinned.

“Excellent. But why are you wearing...” He reached out and pushed back the cuff of the black linen shirt Credence wore, exposing the black leather gloves that covered Credence’s hands and forearms. “Women’s gloves?”

“They’re Norah’s actually. She lent them to me so I could take care of the animals. I... you must remember. You were the one that figured it out.”

“Touch.” Newt murmured. “You absorb...whatever it is, though contact.”

Credence nodded, frowning.

“Norah was pretty excited about that, actually. She said it was the transfer of magical energy, that she’d never seen anything quite like it. She said that I took it from you, that I fed on it, when we-- when you held me.” Credence blushed and studied his hands.

Newt frowned and absently stroked his thumb over the soft leather of the glove, remembering.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that, but I—“

“No!” Credence’s gaze was fierce.

“Please, no,” he repeated softly. “You saved me. Norah said that you knew. You knew it would hurt and how dangerous it was. You almost died! And you did it anyway. You don’t get to apologize for _anything_. And I liked- I mean I--“ Credence looked quickly away.

Newt thought how much he’d overlooked before Credence’s absence and made a quick decision. He grasped Credence’s gloved hand and turned it palm side up on the sheets and laid his in the Obscurial’s open palm. After a moment, Credence wrapped his fingers around Newt’s.  

“This...is fine. Better than fine.” Newt stammered. “You see, I don’t usually- I’m not really one for, um.” He squeezed Credence’s hand. “This sort of thing. But it seems... well, different. With you.” he huffed out  a nervous laugh and caught Credence’s eye. “So, Feel free? And I will, too. Merlin’s beard, Credence, catching the Nundu was easier than talking about this. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Credence grinned and nodded. Then he covered Newt’s palm with his other hand and leaned forward, resting his cheek against the soft leather that covered his skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Newt’s eyes grew heavy. The conversation had drained him and Credence’s presence was a balm for the dreams that had troubled him. He dozed off, periodically half-waking when Credence stirred and quietly left the room, probably to take care of the animals.  

He stirred again when Fluffy hopped on the bed and snuggled her feathery self into the hollow of his neck. He was utterly content to rest and recuperate in the peace of Credence’s room.

When he came to next, it was to the sound of clinking crockery. Credence was sitting in a chair next to the bed, a book and a notebook balanced on his knees. Norah was in the doorway, holding a tray laden with tea and fresh scones.

She bustled up to the bedside and set the tray down on the bedside table before scrutinizing Newt through narrowed eyes.

“Good to see you back in the land of the living, Scamander!” Norah said. “No, before you eat, here.” She thrust his wand towards him. “Go ahead and cast a spell. Any one will do.”

Newt frowned and pointed at the tray.

“Accio scone!” He flicked his wrist. The scone flew into his hand. It was satisfyingly heavy and already slathered with butter. Newt hastily dropped his wand in his lap and cupped his hand to catch a golden drop.

“Excellent!” Norah clapped her hands. “I was a bit concerned about that. D’you know you’ve been out for two days?” She paused for effect, nodding at Newt’s shocked expression. “Laddie, you don’t know how close you came to joining dear Reggie. If young Mr. Barebone here had not had the strength to pull himself away when he did…” She drifted off, clicking her tongue.

“It won’t happen again.” Credence said said firmly. “I know that I can’t do magic now. I won’t try,”

He couldn’t keep the depth of his sadness from his voice. Norah tsked again.

“Now, I wouldn't say that, my boy. You clearly _can_ do magic. I’d wager you’re a natural. And, as long as you have someone willing to top you up once in a while, you should be fine-”

“No,” Credence said, horrified. “I could never hurt someone like that again. Not on purpose.“

“Laddie,” Norah breathed. “You won’t have a choice."

Credence shook his head in angry denial, his hands clenched into fists on his knees.

"Listen,” she continued. “You expend magical energy just to keep your form! You’ll need to feed eventually or-”

“No!” Credence shouted, knocking his chair back as he leapt to his feet. He glared down at the floor, breathing heavily. “I _can’t_ . That’s not... it’s _wrong.”_ he hissed. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaking breath. “I _can’t_ ,”

“Credence?” Newt asked quietly.

Credence snapped his head up and Newt grimaced. The tears wetting the Obscurial's cheeks were incongruous with the fierce determination, and the banked rage dancing behind his eyes.

“Newt, I will never, ever, do that to you again- or to anyone!" He growled. "I’d rather-”

“Don’t!” Newt interrupted, shaking his head violently. “Don’t..finish that sentence. Just, hear me out." Credence managed a tight, small nod, though his expression did not soften.

"If we could devise a way for you to..um… accept magical energy without causing the...reaction...that it caused before, would you consider it?”

Credence started to nod, but his face fell and he sunk back into his chair.  

“I’d still be- stealing something.” he said miserably “I’d still be using someone. That’s just...wrong.”

“You can't steal what's willingly given, Credence.” Newt said. His lips lifted into a small smile.

“Think about it. Everyone uses everyone else to all the time. We share our time, our affection, things like that, and we can be grateful, but we don't need to feel bad about it. This seems like sharing something that can be replaced, and no one would be harmed in the sharing. And if what I’m thinking would work, it wouldn’t involve taking too much from any single person.”

Newt took a long sip of his tea, and watched intently as the idea took root.

Credence twisted his hands in agitation, plucking at the gloves he wore as he worked it out in his mind.

“That..I suppose that would be alright,” he said uncertainly. He slumped and rubbed his hands over his face, swiping errant curls behind his ears. “As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. I won’t- I can’t hurt anyone like that just to save myself. Surely you can understand?” He looked pleadingly at Newt, but it was Norah who responded quicker. She swept over to him and pulled him into a rough, awkward hug, patting his back hard. Newt couldn’t help but notice how careful she was not to come into contact with Credence, but he doubted the Obscurial noticed.

“Of course we understand, laddie. Of course we do. No one would expect you to… to do that.”

Credence was startled out of his melancholy by the brusque affection. Norah plunked herself down on the corner of Newts bed and squinted at him.

“Though, I, for one, would love to find out out how you think you’ll be able to do all this, Mr. Scamander.”

“It’s Newt, please. And, I’m not going to do it. You are going to do it, Norah, considering that part of the idea is something you’ve already accomplished.” Newt cocked his eyebrow at her puzzled expression.

“That marble that you gave me. It held living, magical energy, in perfect stasis. Which is incredibly impressive, by the way. If we could create one for Credence, and set a very specific pellicio charm on it, it would absorb small amounts of magical energy from surrounding sources and Credence could draw from it as he needed to.”

Norah’s eyes lit up.

“In theory, that’d work. But in practice...there’s so many ways it can go wrong. What if the pellicio charm is too strong, or ends up attracting the wrong kind of energy? What if it attracts too much from one source? It could dangerously deplete the source in the same way Credence depleted you, but it wouldn't have the self control to pull back. And what about the physical effects? I highly doubt you want to cast a cold draft about you wherever you go, eh Credence?”

Credence shook his head vehemently.

“Well, I never said it’d be easy, did I?” Newt popped the last of the scone into his mouth, his eyes twinkling.

“If- if it’s not too much trouble, Ms. McTire, I’d like to help you.” Credence said uncertainly. “I’m guessing the marble was actually some type of amorphic container? It might be best to use my own spectral residue to create it.

We can isolate some with Newt’s bubble habitat and stabilize it there. That way the..bobble, or necklace or whatever we make, will stay with me, even when I dematerialize.

Otherwise I’d have to take it off every time I did or I’d absorb it, because, you see, the laws of spectral dynamic cohesion seem to apply to Obscurials the same way they apply to metamorphmagi, and that's what happens with them.”

Credence cut off abruptly, and cast a worried look between Newt and Norah, both of whom were staring at him with identical expressions of utter disbelief.

“Or, at least... I think they do. From the explanation that I read, it seems like that. But, I- I mean, I could be wrong and, if it’s too much trouble-” he stammered.

“No! It’s no trouble, and you are the furthest thing from wrong!” Norah crowed, throwing her arms open. “Where did you- How do you know all that? Newt told me you’ve only been with him a few weeks, that you’d not had any idea about magic before.”

Credence held up the book he’d been reading when Newt woke.

“I’ve been reading your monograph. I don’t understand everything of course, but some of the other books Newt leant me, I think the 6th year ones? They explain a lot of the theory.”

“I’ll be damned,” Nora murmured, shaking her head slowly. “You’re incredible. I would be honored to work with you, my boy. We could make some very valuable discoveries, you and I.”

“I promised Newt I’d help other Obscurials,” Credence said quietly, flushing at the recognition. “It’s, the least I can do and I- I’d like to be able to do magic like a normal wizard.” It was apparent to everyone in the room how much of an understatement that was.

“We’ll get you sorted, young man.” Norah said confidently. “That is, if Mr. Scamander here can do without his protege for a few hours a day?”

“Newt smiled, stroking Dougal, who’d climbed up who had materialized to snuggle against him.

“I’ll make do, I suppose.”

“I’ll still have time to take care of the animals.” Credence said firmly. I don’t need to sleep very much, especially after the other day. You need to work on your book and I’ve delayed you too much already.”

“There’s time,” Newt yawned. “But, right now, it’s high time I was out of bed!” He threw the covers off and snatched them right back again, remembering belatedly that he was only wearing underwear. Norah barked out a laugh and Credence chuckled as he stood. “I’ll get your robe,” He said, and disappeared out the door.

“He is a truly astonishing young man,” Norah said, getting her feet and picking up the tea tray.

Newt nodded and gazed up at her. “Yes, he is. Thank you, Norah. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but you’ve been incredible. And, um. You make a really excellent scone.”

“Think nothing of it. And don’t forget, I stand to gain much more than the two of you. I finally have my chance to study an actual Obscurial!” She winked at him and left.

Newt pushed the covers aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed and just sat for a moment, marveling at how well everything had turned out. He stretched until his back cracked satisfyingly.

There was a knock on the door and Credence cracked it open.

“Come in,” Newt said, scrubbing his hands through his hair in vain attempt to impose some order on it.

Credence stepped into the room and regarded Newt for a few moments.

“You are too thin,” he said, walking over. Instead of handing Newt the robe in his hands, he flung it out and over Newt’s shoulders, patting it into place.  

“Usually,” Newt agreed. “Though I get the distinct impression that Norah will be feeding me up, so don’t worry.”

Credence was staring down at the floor, a posture Newt had come to know all too well. He reached out laid his hand on Credence’s shoulder.

“Alright?”

Credence shook his head.

“Earlier...I lost my temper. You wouldn’t know it, but I’ve alway had a terrible temper.”

Newt nodded.

“Actually, I thought you held onto it quite well. Not so much as a whispnout If place. I know I am safe with you.”

Credence looked up, stricken.

“That’s just it. Around you,” he paused and stared into Newt’s eyes, leaned ever so slightly towards him. “You are wonderful, but I know people. And as soon as I’m out there again, I’m afraid I’ll...well if anybody did something...bad...I don’t want to be that _monster_ again.”   

Newt bit his lip, struggling, as usual, to find the words to tell Credence what he needed to know. He was so out of his depth with this. Queanie would know what to say. Or Jacob. Even Tina would be better at this than him, but maybe not by much. That brought a small smile to his lips..

“Can I try something?” he asked, rising from the bed.

“Of course,” Credence answered immediately.

“I think the issue, well, part of the issue, is that you don’t think you can control your new abilities.”

“Abilities!” Credence breathed. “Is that what you call all this?”

Newt ruthlessly beat down a flare of annoyance and simply nodded.

“Maybe the reason why they seem like abilities to me, but burdens to you, is because you don’t believe you can control them. But you _are_ controlling them. You’re solid. You grew your hair, you decided to get rid of that frankly awful suit. Even when you were dying, when you desperately needed what I had, you refused to take it. As soon as you realized something was wrong, you stopped.  I can’t imagine how hard it must have been, honestly I can’t. So, I want to try to touch you, now, when no one is hurting, or dying, or... Whatever. To show you that you can, indeed, control yourself, when you try. It may make you feel better.”

“Only if you have your wand out.” Credence said after a moment. “And promise me you’ll blast me across this room before you let me hurt you.”

Newt grinned. The Credence he knew a week ago would never have dared make a demand.

“Yes, I promise. And don’t take off your gloves. Who knows, something might go wrong and if it does, you should not be wrestling with those things, you should be running for help.”

He spun around and grabbed his wand from the bed.

“Not,” he said, waggling it,  “That I think I’ll need it. Are you ready?”

Credence took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “I think.”

Newt reached out and brushed his fingers across Credence’s jaw, sliding them over the curious sickle-shaped scar there.

“Nothing,” He said after a moment. “Well, that’s a relief,”

Credence snorted with laugher and opened his eyes, then cocked his head, pushing his cheek into the cup of Newt’s palm.

“It’s not even hard to do.” He said wonderingly. “I mean, I can feel you- your energy. But it’s not- It’s not even hard!” Quickly, he stripped the glove off one and looked a question at Newt.

“Oh, go ahead,” Newt laughed, and Credence tentatively slid his fingers along the ridge of Newt’s cheek. When nothing happened, he slumped in relief, bringing their foreheads together with a gentle smack.

“Point proven?” Newt asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Point proven. And I can finally get rid of these things,” Credence said, breaking away to strip the other glove off. “I was a little worried that I’d end up in Norah’s gloves forever.”

“Indeed,” Newt said, tugging the sash of his robe tighter around his waist. “You should tell me the story behind this sometime. When you’re ready,” he said, impulsively brushing his finger across the scar again. “A burden shared is lighter.”

Unexpectedly, Credence smiled.

“Is that like, ‘worrying means you suffer twice,’” he asked.

Newt groaned.

“Yes, like that. Just wait till you meet my mother. She has a saying for every conceivable situation and facet of the human condition.” Newt groaned. “I suppose that’s where I get it from.”

“Does she live close by?”

“Actually, she does. She’s in Scotland. She breeds hippogryphs. Wait till you see one of _them._ Truly astounding creatures. Let’s pay her a visit after we leave here. I haven’t seen her in quite some time.”

“That’d be great,” Credence turned towards the door, then looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Oh. Norah told me to tell you that she’s making supper, and we’d better not be late,” he said.

“When was that?”

Credence’s eyes widened.

“A while ago,”

“So, we’re probably already a smidge late.”

“Probably.”

“Gods forbid. You run, I’ll be there in two shakes of a mooncalf’s tail.”

As Credence bolted down the stairs, Newt shook his head, bemused. For all their many flaws, humankind was amazingly resilient. He knew that they were only at the beginning of Credence’s journey, but he was filled with pride at how far he’d come in such a short amount of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I have questions. Maybe you have answers, or thoughts or opinions. 
> 
> This was going in a decidedly Newt/Credence direction, but the more I think about that, the more effed up it seems to me. 
> 
> Seems like no matter which way you twist it, Newt is still an older, (marginally) more experienced man, and Credence is still an abused kid trying to figure his shit out. I can't think of a way in which that actually doesn't translate into an abusive relationship, even if both parties are into it. 
> 
> Like, I literally started writing it and felt dirty so I got rid of it. What do you all think? Thanks in advance for your opinions.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which magical science is furthered, and more personal discoveries are made.

“Damn it!”  

Credence raked hands through is hair in frustration and Norah watched the surge of shadow around him with interest.

He was solid, for the moment, standing in the center of three tripod-mounted crystals. The glowing field that emanated from them threw his spectral residue into sharp, dark relief, making it visible, observable.

“Easy, laddie,” Norah said, standing from her perch on a tall stool, a notebook clasped in her hand. “We’ll find the right combination. We’re really only just beginning, you know.”

Credence gaped at her.

“Just beginning? We’ve been at this for a week!” he cried.

“Ach, the impatience of youth!" Nora clucked at him. "Frankly, I’m shocked we made it as far as we have. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around _that_ little bobble.” She said, indicating to the shining orb. “I know you did it, but I’m still not quite sure _how._ ”

Credence shook his head, grimacing.

“I wish I could explain it.” He frowned and tried again. “You told me what we needed- and I already understood most of it. We needed a- a wisp of spectral residue to create the container. So I diffused.”

Norah nodded. Diffused was the term they’d agreed upon to describe Credence releasing his physical form. Dissolving or disintegrating, though they were as accurate, had unpleasant connotations that made Credence uncomfortable. They were still trying to decide on a term for the reverse process.

“When I re-formed, I focused extremely hard on keeping part of myself separate. And it worked.”

Norah sighed and shook her head.

“That’s what I don’t understand, I suppose. I could make more sense out of if you’d, I don’t know left a lock of hair apart, or a finger or something, gruesome though that may be.” She scrubbed her eyes. “The idea that you are able to coalesce into different forms doesn’t make much--” 

“What is it, Norah?” Credence asked. He’d given up calling her Ms. McTire at her insistence, and the long hours they spent hard at work together had developed a close familiarity, enough that he had mostly shed his obsequious tendencies, much to her relief.   

“You _can_ though.” She murmured. “Can you close your eyes for me, Credence?” He nodded and did so. Quietly, she slipped off her stool and crept towards forwards. She reached though the field and gently brushed her fingers over the glowing orb. Credence jerked and gasped and his eyes shot open.

“I felt that! It was like you were-”

“Touching you.” Nora frowned. “Even though we’ve remodeled this part of you into something else, it’s still fundamentally a part of you. No wonder you can’t drain it. You’re trying to drain part of yourself. We are not on the right path, laddie. Though it was a good theory.”

Credence groaned and dropped to the ground, crossing his legs and burying his head in his hands.

“Then all this has been for nothing,” he muttered.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Nora smirked. “We’ve just uncovered another rather amazing attribute of your kind. You can shape-shift.”

Credence’s head snapped up.

Nora held her hand under the glowing orb, not quite touching it.

“This thing is just you in another form. How’d you like to be a wolf? Or a Dragon? Or a falcon? I’m fairly sure that if you spent enough time thinking about it or studying them, you could emerge as any of those. Ah! I like emerge!”

Credence blinked up at her, attempting to assimilate everything.

“Emerge is good,” he murmured, picking the easier of the two concepts to focus on. “The more I do it, the easier it gets and it really does feel like...coming up from under water, or something.”

“Excellent. Instead of focusing on what we don’t know, let’s rethink what we do know,” Norah said. “We know that when you are diffuse, you can not work spells. We know that the spectral residue that comprises your diffuse form obeys your will- that it can interact with the world around you, but only physically.”

Credence thought of the damage he’d caused as he’d raged through New York, and winced.

“We know know that we can’t use that spectral energy to create the containment artifact as we hoped.”

Somehow, treating it as yet another fact helped remove the burden of failure, and Credence nodded again, firmly.

“We have seen, through the crystal field here, that even working minor magic when you are in your physical form depletes your magical energy, and that energy is not naturally restored...”

Nora frowned and tapped her lips with her wand, pensively. Watching the actual depletion process, as it was made visible in the crystal’s field, still bothered her.

It had been experientially close to watching a dementor suck some of the essence out of a Ministry prisoner, during the short but terrible time she’d been contracted to document and explain their nature, as the ministry struggled to categorize them.

Credence’s magical energy, the bright spark of his power, had bled into the spectral residue as it encompassed an apple and held it aloft, leaving him visibly diminished.

“And we know your intuitive way of using magic uses far more magical energy than the normal way…” She continued. She’d demonstrated for him, casting Wingardium Leviosa from within the crystals. Where his method of using his magical energy had been diffuse, her spell had been targeted and efficient.

“The the spectral residue is the pathway between your magical power and the world,” She murmured.

“It sounds like you need a way to focus it,” Newt said from behind Norah. She jumped and clutched her chest before turning and swatting him across the shoulders.

“You scared the life out of me, laddie,” she gasped, struggling to turn a smile into a scowl. 

Newt grinned and strode through the field to where Credence was sitting on the floor and reached out a hand.

“You’ve been spell casting, Credence,” He said as he hauled the young man to his feet. “If you need-”

“No. I’m fine,” Credence said, dropping Newts hand quickly. “Really.” He tried for a smile. “We just, realized that our idea... about using my energy to create this... bobble… Well, it won’t work.”

Newt shot him a sympathetic look.

“Thing is, Credence,” Norah said from behind him. “We now understand the mechanics of how you _expend_ energy, but we haven’t see how you draw it. I think we’ll need that information to get any further.”

Credence jerked upright and shot Norah a furious look. .

“No _._ ” He growled. “I told you, I will never, ever do that again.”

“Credence, you know you’re not nearly as bad off as you were before.” Nora sighed. “You’d take so little, and we’d learn so much. If you won’t do it with Newt, or myself,  maybe one of the animals-”

“Absolutely not!” Norah and Credence both recoiled at the tone of Newt’s voice. He glared at her, rigid with fury. “They are under my care, and If you lay a finger on any of them, you will regret it,” he snarled.

Norah’s eyes widened, and then narrowed as she scowled back at him, flushing.

Credence reached out and placed a hand on Newt’s shoulder and watched the light flare beneath it.

“I wouldn’t ever anyway,” he murmured. “I need to stop for a while. Can you...can we take a walk? Outside?”

Newt stood stock still for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Of course,” He said, turning towards his friend.

“Take coats,” Norah muttered, turning back to her notebook. “It was blowing hard this morning,”

Newt shot a look at her over his shoulder and Credence squeezed his arm.

“Thanks. We will.” was all he said.

The wind whipped Credence’s hair into a frenzy as soon as they stepped outside. He couldn't help but laugh as he raked fingers through it, trying to tame it.

“No use!” Newt chuckled, his own mop of unruly hair tossing around like a live animal trying to escape from his scalp. “Let’s get to the track in the valley. Should be better there. Last one there is a demiguise’s uncle” He said, and bolted. Credence smirked and ran after him, pelting down the hill as fast as he could.

It felt good to feel his heart pound, to suck in the cool, slightly damp air, to feel the wind whipping around his body. The highland countryside was the most beautiful he’d ever seen, and Norah’s house was positioned in a particularly lonely corner of it. The freedom of that vast solitude had drawn him out of his experiments several times over the past few weeks. The wooded track at the bottom of the hill was not, however, one he had previously hiked. He tended to go for the heights, to watch the hawks and the deer.

Newt paused at the bottom of the hill, his chest heaving and a bright smile on his face. On a whim, Credence shut his eyes and let his other senses take over. It was something that he’d been working on amidst all the other experimentation. The world became a mass of shifting shadows, and at its center Newt glowed, as bright as a bonfire.

“Beautiful,” Credence gasped after he’d come to a halt beside Newt.

“Sorry?” Newt asked.

Credence blinked a few times.

“I haven’t been down here, yet,” he stammered. “It’s beautiful. And definitely not as windy.” The tall, straight, moss covered trees rose high above them, offering shelter. Sunlight fell in dappled patterns across the path in front of them as they began to walk. They carried on in companionable silence for over a mile, listening to the birds and the breeze and the soft gurgle of the creek that rippled through the crease of the valley below them. Credence felt a deep, bottomless sense of calm, felt centered and strengthened and grounded.  When Newt reached out a hand and grasped his, it felt good, and right, the completion of a circuit. He sighed let his eyes drift shut, sensing the lay of the land in front of him. He felt a tug and realized that Newt had stopped walking. He blinked his eyes open and looked back.

“Men don’t, do this.” Newt lifted Credence’s hand in his, smoothing his thumb rhythmically over his knuckles. “Typically, that is.”

“I’m aware,” Credence nodded. He was also aware that his experiences had been different from most men. Inadvertently, he thought of all the ways that that bastard Graves had touched him and used him.This was completely different. Where Graves’ touch had only ever brought longing and a confused sense of shame, Newt had only ever offered comfort, support and strength.

“And what do Obscurials do? Typically?” He asked.

Newt huffed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling.  He reached over and plucked a leaf from Credence’s hair.  

“No one’s ever had the chance to find out.  You’ll have to tell me,” he said warmly, twirling the leaf. Credence watched it turn turn this way and that, as if hypnotized.

“They don’t do anything their friends don’t want to do,” he murmured finally. The leaf stilled in Newt's grasp.

“How can they tell what their friends want, when their friends don’t know themselves?” Newt husked, dropping the leaf and staring down at their joined hands.

Credence could understand that. He wasn’t sure what he wanted either, but he had realized over the course of the intermittent weeks, that he wanted more. He wanted to show Newt how much he meant, wanted to slake his own body’s thirst for contact. He wanted to experience the things that had hurt him the way they were meant to be experienced. But he had no idea how to go about it.

“I suppose they do what they’ve been trained to do,” Credence said breathlessly. “Experiment until they find a solution that works.”

Newt flushed and glanced quickly up at Credence, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“That’s. That’s good.” He stammered. “ A good idea.” His eyes focused elsewhere briefly, before snapping back to Credence. “Can I--”

Newt stepped forward into Credence’s space, and stumbled to a halt, just close enough for the lapels on their coats to brush. Credence could feel Newt’s hand shaking in his.

Credence _wanted._ He wanted to accept that obvious invitation but he held himself in check, one question eclipsing all others.

“Why?” he whispered, searching Newt’s face for that most important of answers. He would not be able to bear it if this was just another way Newt was trying to take care of him.

“Because you are amazing.” Newt said, flushing.  He pressed his eyes shut, swallowed hard, then looked bashfully up at Credence from under his shaggy fringe. He took a deep breath.

“Because you are one of the smartest, most brilliant men I have ever met. Because you’re strong and resilient, which are qualities I admire, and because you are beautiful, and you have such a capacity to love. I’ve seen you…with the animals and....” He cut himself off and stared at the ground. “I have absolutely nothing to offer, no right to ask you for anything, but I want some of that love. I want it so badly it terrifies me.”

Credence let Newt’s words wash over him. The knowledge that someone admired and wanted him for himself, rather than what he could offer them, began to heal a dark, gaping wound that hadn’t realized had been there.

“Yes,” he sighed, swaying towards Newt.

“What are you agreeing to?” Newt murmured.

“You asked if you could. Yes, you can. Whatever you…” Credence drifted off, uncertain how to finish that sentence.

Miraculously, the incomplete explanation was enough. Newt leaned in and pressed his lips against Credence’s in a gentle, fleeting imitation of a kiss.

Before Credence could react, Newt rocked back on his heels, and stared into middle distance. He swallowed convulsively and blinked.

“Alright?” He managed to gasp out.

Credence realized that the only thing that was not alright about any of this was that Newt thought it might not be the most perfect thing that had ever happened in his life.

“No,” he said, then shook his head frantically, pulling back on Newts hand as he attempted to back away. “No! Newt! Yes. Yes! That was alright.” he groaned in frustration, feeling his face flush. “More than alright.  I want…want that. All of it."

Forcing the words out, after a lifetime of denial and shame, took everything he had. He let his grip on Newt's hand go slack and waited anxiously, staring at the ground.

"Oh," Newt breathed. "Oh, Credence." He leaned back in and rested his forehead against his friend's. "I am almost twice your age, I’m awkward and...strange, I annoy people and I’ve never...never done this before, any of it...” Newt broke off abruptly.

"I have," Credence said. He felt Newt grow very still. "I’ve...done things. And it--it was nothing like this."  It occurred to him that not all of his scars showed on his skin. Talking about this felt like plucking at scar tissue inside of him. It hurt, but it was also strangely satisfying. "You think that... that I don't know... that I'm somehow innocent, but I am not." He felt the onset of tears stinging his eyes. "I wish I was- I wish you were the first person to..."

"Credence," Newt's voice was low, and steady, and he did not move away.

"What I mean," Credence gasped, "Is that, I know...things. Enough to know what I don't want… what isn't alright. And you...if you want it... this...this is right. You are so _right._ For me.” It was agonizing, trying to conjure up the right words,  but he figured he owed Newt an explanation since he’d demanded one.

“You make me feel good. Like I am good, and...I believe it. When you say it, in the ways that you show it.  I want to be better around you and you...you’re strong, and kind, and you want to help and so do I and your eyes are so blue and I’ve thought about this...about kissing you and... Who wouldn’t? But I didn’t know if it was right, and now I know. It is. Can’t you feel it?” He asked helplessly.

"Yes," Newt said. Something in the tone of his voice cut through the buzzing that was building in Credence's head as he babbled. They were already so close, it took hardly anything for Newt to bring his lips back to Credence's.

This time, there was no hesitation, just the warm, soft pressure of flesh meeting flesh. Credence sighed and tugged on Newt's shoulders. He was gathered into the warm circle of Newt’s arms and dared to slip his fingers through soft curls. His eyes drifted shut and his other senses swelled.

The world was limned in the light they cast between them. The electric spark of Newt’s energy skated across Credence’s skin and, as he sighed and opened his lips, it flared and sparkled. Distracted as he was by the hot wet-velvet curl of Newt's tongue, the subtle barriers he kept erect fell and that sparking energy raced into him, filling him with a warmth that spread through his breast and pooled in aching waves between his legs.

Newt gasped as Credence jerked away, throwing himself backwards.

“I’m sorry!” he gasped, reaching abortively towards Credence where he had come to a quivering halt. “I should’ve asked first-“

Credence shook his head, trembling.

“Did it hurt?” He demanded, furious at himself.

Newt blinked at him.

“Hurt? No. It most definitely did not hurt. In fact, it-“

“No! Not the… kissing. The- I- “Credence broke off and really looked at Newt. His face was flushed, but there was no sign of shivering or convulsing or any of the things that had happened before. “Did you not… notice?” He asked.

“Notice What?,” Newt murmured, mystified. “Can I- if you’re not actually angry, can you come closer please?” 

Credence felt a stab of remorse and stepped back towards him reaching tentatively for his hand. Newt seemed to relax as they touched, slumping and sighing.

“It was so good.” You felt so good, and I forgot to shield and I didn’t mean to but I… I’m sorry, but I f-fed from your--“

“Merlin’s beard!” Newt interrupted, groaning  in relief. He pulled gently at Credence’s hand to reel him in. Credence went willingly, pressing close.  “I thought I’d done something rather horrible.”

“No! Not at all.” Credence rested his cheek against Newts shoulder, letting his mind go blank as he stared out into the swaying trees. He felt himself relaxing as Newt tucked himself closer. They stood like that for a long time, letting the world of rustling, whispering trees and wind move on around them. Finally, Newt pulled away, brushing his lips along Credence’s cheek as he did.

“We should head back,” he said with a sigh.

Credence grimaced, but allowed Newt to draw him closer and they started back down the darkening track, arm in arm.

“So, it didn’t...hurt?” Credence asked after a time.

Newt shook his head.

“I don’t think I felt it at all, or if I did, it felt… good.” He grinned briefly, sneaking  a sideways look at Credence’s profile. “But, it’s hard to tell what felt good because...well. Many things did,”

Credence blushed and fixed his eyes on the track ahead.

“Then, I think… maybe Norah was right and..if you have time, and you really don’t mind…” He began and then broke off, frowning, unable to actually voice the request. Newt pressed his hand, where it rested on his arm, and nodded.

“It would be interesting to see how the transfer of energy works,” Newt nodded to himself. “Though I suspect the need for the… bauble you were considering is somewhat obsolete now that we know you can accomplish the trick without hurting anyone. Especially if you only take energy in sort of small sips, like today. That first time was rather a large draught.”

Credence nodded slowly. Newt was relieved that the thought no longer made him angry.

“We can start small,” Newt continued, his eyes shining. Thinking up experiments was one of his favorite pastimes. “Now that you’re replenished, we can try and see what happens. Then you can cast spells of varying quantity and intensity, and find out how big a pull can be before it’s noticeable. If only there was a quantifiable measurement for magical energy! As it is, we’ll have to work on a comparative basis, but that’s-”

“No, there is. Apparently.” Credence interrupted eagerly. “Or at least, there will be, once it’s published... Norah was working on just that for the Ministry before we interrupted her work. She’s calling it caldors. It’s based off of the muggle unit for the measurement of heat.”

“Seems a rather... specific name for her to come up with on her own,” Newt said, a smile pulling at his lips.

“She seemed to...well, when we talked about it, it made sense.” Credence blushed. “Anyhow, instead of measuring how much heat it takes to warm water, she’s measuring how much energy it takes to power a spell.”

The conversation continued in earnest all the way back to the house and well into dinner, which Norah graciously supplied. No one mentioned their previous disagreement, mutually deciding that looking forward was more productive than looking back.

~~

The next weeks were some of the best in Credence’s life. He felt freer and easier in himself after he and Newt had reached their understanding. Though their behavior had not altered significantly, something fundamental had shifted. With every lingering touch or admiring look, his place in Newt's life seemed less like charity to him and more and like a mutually beneficial and satisfying arrangement. As Credence blossomed, Newt relaxed as well. Only by noticing his newfound ease did Credence recognize how reticent Newt had been, how careful of Credence’s state of mind.

While appreciated that care, and could admit to himself he had needed it in those early, fraught days as he’d come to grips with his new reality, he vastly preferred this new, smiling version of his friend who had a dry, teasing wit and an outrageous propensity for pranks.

The former helped Credence find the humor in situations that had always left him incapacitated with embarrassment or rigid with fury,  and the latter usually ended up with him in some state of aroused, frustrated hilarity- a feeling so foreign he had no way to cope with it the first time it happened.

He’d been laying on the ground half under the occamy nest, mending it after one of the little buggers had decided to put his head right though the floor while blindly chasing his dinner. It was fiddly, meticulous work and he was concentrating on the twist and weave of the fibers to the exclusion of all else.

This meant that he hadn’t noticed Newt walk by him, or noticed when he’d stopped, backed up, and indulged himself in a good long look at how Credence’s rucked up shirt seemed to perfectly frame the pale expanse of his lean stomach and ribs. He hadn’t noticed Newt’s fingers twitch, or the short internal battle that had waged itself behind sparking blue eyes.

He definitely _had_ noticed when those twitchy fingers had found his ribs, tickling him unmercifully. He’d let out a yelp and whacked his head against the underside of the nest, before howling with laughter and batting Newt’s hands away as he tried to slide himself out from under the mass of woven straw.

By the time he’d emerged, Newt was up and gone, disappearing around a corner. He had almost made it to the house when Credence caught up with him, diving forward to catch him around the waist and pulling him down to the grassy lawn where he’d proceeded to pay him back in kind, until tears of laughter rolled down both their faces.

It wasn’t all fun and games, however. Once Newt swore blind that he would not allow himself to be hurt for the sake of science, their experiments progressed and Credence worked hard helping Norah record their progress.

They found out quickly that Credence seemed to have no limit to the amount of energy he could absorb. Newt watched in fascination as light flared between Credence’s hands and his skin time after time as he transferred varying amounts of energy between them, so distracted by the spectacle that he often had to be reminded to provide feedback about how the transfer actually felt.  

There was also no way to accurately gage when Credence needed to draw energy, other than a vaguely increasing sense of fatigue and the compulsion to diffuse.

Encouraged by both Norah and Newt, Credence performed more and more advanced spells, learning the techniques as a byproduct of expending enough energy to test the transfers. Try as he might, he failed at making his spells more efficient. It was frustrating and irritating, especially since Norah pointed out continually how uncommonly powerful even the smallest spell was.

Credence had spent his entire life being uncommon and trying to hide it. He hated the idea of continuing to do so now that he was finally finding a place among folk more like himself.

He couldn’t wait to learn enough to earn a wand. Every witch and every wizard had one. Newt and Norah’s were like extensions of themselves, constant companions, and badges of their status as magic users. If the descriptions in the books he read were true, the wand chose the wizard. He wanted badly to be chosen by something. He obsessed constantly about what kind of wood his would be, what it would look like, what core would resonate the best with his damaged soul.

He hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Newt when he could get one, or where. Children didn’t get wands until they went to school. He’d only been training for weeks. He assumed he needed to reach some level of proficiency and control before he could get one, so that he didn’t blow things up like the last time he’d tried. He was absolutely determined to make that happen.

One evening, after Norah wandered off after a long day to sort her notes over a glass of scotch, he stepped back into the field, and took a deep, centering breath. He placed an apple on the floor, and stared at it hard.

“Alohamora!” he said firmly. He watched the spell swell rapidly into the space around him, surrounding him in a shimmering nimbus of light as he formed the word and focused hard on the apple. Again and again, he tried to achieve the neat flash of concentrated spell power and time and again, was engulfed in light.

The apple hit the floor just before Credence as he sat heavily, groaning in frustration and scrubbing at his hair. He scowled at the apple. Without his saying a word, it rose from the floor, surrounded in swaths of pulsing radiance.

“Do you know how beautiful that is?” Newt walked through the swirling light and plunked himself down beside Credence. The apple bobbed and spun as the colors of Credence’s magic darkened. Silvery sparks shot down the channels of power as he vented his frustration.

“I use too much magic for the slightest thing. I don’t want to be such a constant _drain_ ,” he groaned. He glanced up at Newt, and blinked curiously.

Newt was frowning, staring hard at the apple, his jaw rippling as he clenched his teeth. Agonizingly slowly, a ruddy, red sparking channel of energy floated through the air and swirled around the apple which was abruptly zipped away from Credence’s control. It smacked into Newt’s palm and he laughed out loud with delight.

“I can’t believe I actually managed that!” he crowed. He blinked up at Credence, his eyes dancing. “I’ve always been rubbish at wandless magic. It is incredibly hard.”

Credence snorted, but a smile lifted the corners of his lips. “At least you can manage it if you try hard enough. No matter what I do, nothing makes a difference… if I could see one tiny bit of improvement, it would—“ he sighed and slumped, and Newt hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

Despite the increasing frequency of their affections, it still surprised and delighted Credence that he was allowed to have this level of contact. He sighed, languid and exhausted by the sustained spellcasting.

Twisting towards him, Newt searched his face in the dim light. He grasped Credence’s hand and nuzzled his cheek into his palm in wordless invitation.

Their kiss was slow and sweet. Credence slid his eyes shut and let the wonder of it wash through him. The slick-soft slide of Newt’s lips and the gentle brush of calloused fingers against his cheek conveyed a depth of affection and fondness that he never thought he would ever have. 

“Go ahead,” Newt said softly, his lips moving against Credence’s. “I know you need to,” He tilted his head back, sighing as Credence covered his lips once more.

Credence carefully pulled the smallest bit of Newt’s energy, savoring the electric sparkle as it spread through him.  Newt gasped and collapsed weakly against him. Startled, Credence cut himself off and pulled Newt into his arms, anxiously searching his face for signs of pain.

“I felt that,” Newt murmured, burrowing closer when Credence moved to pull away. “No, not like that. It felt wonderful. Really... good...try it again..”

Insatiable curiosity was something they had in common, and it quickly overcame caution. This was a change in how things worked, and had to be explored. Credence pulled Newt close and tried again.

Newt let his eyes drift shut, basking in Credence’s featherlight touch as he ran his fingertips over Newt’s face and throat. Tingling warmth accompanied a pleasant, buzzing lassitude.  It seemed to seep inward through his skin and pooled in his chest. Newt arched into Credence’s touch, chasing the ephemeral sensations.

Newt’s energy sparked along the path of Credence’s fingers, flying into him through the air like so many ruddy red snowflakes as he watched Newt’s reactions with growing excitement. It was one thing avoid causing pain. It was quite another to find that he could impart this level of pleasure by taking what he needed.

He bent his head and kissed Newt hungrily, skating a shaking palm across his chest and down his arm to grasp his bare wrist. He pulled recklessly through that skin to skin connection reveling in the hot cascade of energy surging through him before cutting himself off ruthlessly.

“Gods above!” Newt cried as his body contracted in pleasure. “Do that again!”

Credence smiled, but shook his head and pulled back.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “But it’s...interesting.”.

“Interesting is one word for it, I suppose.” Newt agreed, cocking an eyebrow at Credence before dropping his head against his shoulder. They sat on the floor in silence, utterly contented in each others’ company and Newt found himself rolling the question of Credence’s spell casting around in his head.

After a while, Fuzzy hopped over from her perch in the corner of the lab and stood in front of them, cocking her head back and forth.

“It must be 6:01.” Credence murmured.

“Dinner time,” Newt chuckled.

“Oh no, at least an entire minute past dinner time. She’s starving, obviously.” Fuzzy regarded them with growing impatience.“Oh! Watch this,” Credence said, leaning forward.

As Fuzzy began her silent tirade, bursts and jets of energy skimmed across the surface of her body, the crystal field in which they sat illuminating her enchanted song.

“It’s beautiful!” Newt breathed, enthralled. “Look, the more impatient she gets, the more purple there is.”

Credence nodded, and bit his lip. He really should get up and feed her and her family, but the last thing he wanted to do was to pull away from the comfortable warm weight of Newt's body pressed against his side. Fluffy’s magic curled through the air in sparkling waves.

“It’s like your magic,” Newt said. He was so enthralled by the dancing lights that he didn't notice Credence stiffen.

“Maybe...maybe if I had a wand, I’d be able to cast spells better than an _animal_.” Credence muttered. A small cold trickle of resentment of resentment and frustration washed away the contented warmth. It was an ugly, twisting feeling, and he tried unsuccessfully to suppress it.

“Oh, I hardly think you’ll need a wand” Newt said absently. He threw his dismissal out so carelessly, as if it was meaningless, as if it didn’t matter at all.

And maybe it didn’t, Credence thought bitterly. After all, Newt was a natural wizard. He didn’t even think of it as a privilege. It Didn't matter to him at all that Credence wasn’t, that because if the abomination he was he’d never have a shot at a normal life. His next words made things infinitely worse.

“You’re so different from other wizards. Your magic is as intuitive as Fluffy’s here. Have you noticed how you change some things around you? I mentioned it to Norah. The color of the walls in your room for instance. I meant to ask you if it was a conscious decision.”

It had not been a conscious decision. He hadn’t thought anything of it until now. Credence twisted away from Newt and lurched to his feet, shaking.

Newt caught himself from falling back and  mentally scrambled, aware that something was going wrong and unable to figure out what.

“Credence?”

“Unconscious and intuitive use of magic is a quality found most commonly in magical _beasts_ ,” Credence muttered, scowling at the ground..

Newt blinked up at his friend, his mind roiling in confusion. He recognized the words from one of his school books but found himself failing utterly to figure out why such a thing would be relevant, or problematic, when it dawned on him.

“Oh, no." he breathed. "No, Credence. That is not at all what I meant at all.”

“I am not one of your beasts,” Credence snarled, his eyes snapping up. Newt had been reaching towards him and recoiled.

“I know,” He said softly, his face twisting in distress. “I never-”

“ _Wizards_ have wands.” Credence glared down at Newt, daring him to challenge that unassailable fact.

“They do,” Newt winced and looked away. The depth of his misunderstanding was beginning to sink in.

“So why, then, should I not have one?”  Credence demanded. Anger and bitter disappointment were real, tangible things, and he shook in their grip, finding himself less and less willing to keep them in check. The whole thing was so unfair and he had tried so hard, for nothing

“Not- it’s not that. It’s-“ Newts mind blanked. His mouth worked as he tried to find words that would explain the problem without hurting more than he already had. “Because the magical core of a wand will likely disrupt your natural abilities, The way it did before.” He blurted out. He tried to look up, to meet Credence’s gaze and made it as far as his knees before giving up. “It’s just a theory.” His voice was thick, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. “We can test it. Here, you can try mine again.” He pulled his wand from his pocket and held it out.

Credence stared, stricken, at the outstretched wand. When Newt finally managed to raise his eyes, his rage abruptly dissipated, rapidly replaced by a blooming sense of unbearable shame. Newt looked shattered, and he was just trying, as usual, to help.

“I didn’t realize…” Credence choked off and abruptly spun around and darted away. Newt watched him go, feeling absolutely wretched.

“Fluffy, you have more brains in that little skull of yours than I do,” He groaned and leaned forward, reaching towards her.  She cocked her head before hopping into his hand and he cuddled her to his face.

“What’s all this then?” Norah peered into the lab. She caught sight of Newt and leaned against the door jam. “Ah,” Her face screwed up into a sympathetic moue.

“I’ve rather put my foot in it, I’m afraid,” Newt murmured as he blinked his eyes clear them. He desperately hoped Norah wouldn’t press him for details.

“Shocked it doesn’t happen more often,” She said. “Not, you understand, because of any fault of yours.” she followed up quickly, making her way into the room. She held out a hand and Newt took it, allowing her to lever him up to his feet. She patted his shoulder awkwardly.

“Honestly, that young man is coping magnificently, given everything. But he’s been...he’s got…” She frowned. “What I’m trying to say, laddie, is not to blame yourself. You’ve done wonders for him. I’m sure he’ll be alright in a bit once he’s had a chance to mull things over. I remember what I was like at his age. Piss and vinegar one minute, honey and treacle the next.”

Newt nodded and didn’t mention how incredibly unlikely it was that Norah’s youthful tantrums had the slightest thing in common with Credence’s justifiable anger. She was trying to help, and she wasn’t all wrong.

“I’ve got to see to the animals,” he said, shuffling Fluffy in his hands. She was subdued, staring up at his face. “Thank you, Norah.”

She nodded and to his utter relief, let him go without further comment. As Newt made his rounds, he pondered the situation.

For Credence, having a wand clearly wasn’t about being able to do spells. Newt bit his lip in self recrimination for that idiotic notion. Credence had probably been more in command of his powers as a youngster, before that misbegotten woman had gotten a hold of him, than most adult wizards.

For Credence, and indeed for any witch or wizard, a wand was a symbol of belonging as well as a tool to be used. And there were other perfectly logical reasons for credence to have one that hadn’t previously occurred to Newt. A wizard walking around throwing spells every which way without a wand was sure to be noticed, and the last thing Credence could afford was to be noticed by the wrong people.

But what was there to do about it? Credence would likely blow Newt’s wand, or any wand, to smithereens if he tried to actually use it. Newt knew that and had been one hundred percent ready to make the sacrifice. Wands could be replaced far easier than a friend’s peace of mind. But there had to be a better solution. He leaned against Berta’s flank, setting her feed pale down next to him.

Absently, Berta picked up a long twig out of her hay and tossed it aside. It hit Newt with a thwack across his shins. He winced and slapped her affectionately, then froze.

“Of course!” He breathed. “You’re a genius you gigantic oaf!” She snorted again and watched as he bustled off.

—-

Credence paced in his room in agitation. Tears of shame and fury streamed down his face. He had had no right to be angry at Newt for any reason, let alone about a such an idiotic misunderstanding.

In hindsight, nothing in the world could possibly be more ludicrous than the things he’d said. He _knew_ how much the Newt cared for him, even if he didn’t quite understand why. Newt had given him so much- food, clothes, a home, affection, a chance a at a new life, and he’d thrown it all back in his face over the idea of a stupid _wand_.  He’s been unable to master his own temper and he’d snapped at the hand that helped, like the beaten dog he was.

He wracked his brains for an apology that would suffice, tried to imagine a way he could bite back his words and ease the look of anguish on Newt’s face, and came up time and again with nothing. He slammed his hands down on the surface of the chest of drawers and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His tear-stained, pallid face disgusted him. He could almost here his Ma's voice, berating him, reminding him of how useless and horrible and unnatural he was, how he didn't deserve the kindness he was shown.

Despair brought with it a sense of deadening calm. He took a shaking breath and scrubbed his face with his hands. The one thing that Ma had taught him was that a suitable punishment could be found for every wrongdoing. And after punishment, there was absolution, of a sort.

“And what do you deserve for this, you total idiot?” He demanded of his reflection. That answer for that was far easier to find than a way to apologize.

 —-

Newt hummed to himself as he worked. The first challenge had been finding the right material. It was almost unbelievable that of all the detritus he had laying around in his case, only a very few things had not been magically created or contained magical properties. He’d wracked his brain and his work bench until the perfect solution literally fell into his hands.

A long, slender length of mahogany, one half of which was carved into the general shape of a lion’s head and forelegs. He winced as stroked the smooth wood figure.

It had been Aliyya’s. He’d found it, clutched in her hand after he’d pulled the obscurus from her dying body. She’d loved the figure, said that she had always carried it everywhere. She’d said it protected her. Surely there could be no better way to honor her memory…

He tapped the blunt end of the figurine with his wand and drew it out, watching the wood re-carve itself, absorbing the paws into its tapered length, until only the lion's head remained. 

Newt positioned the emerging wand in the air and it floated there. He set it spinning and again used his wand to rout the shape of a handle that would fit snugly between thumb, forefinger and palm.  When he was satisfied with the shape, he drew a glowing line along the length of the wand on both sides and rapped it smartly. It fell into two neat, long pieces.

Carefully, he hollowed out the flat side of one of the pieces and sat staring at it, drumming his fingers.

His first inclination was to use one of Fuzzy’s molted feathers for the core. There was a strong emotional connection there, but, though Fwooper feathers hadn’t any intrinsic magical properties of which he was aware, he rather thought that including an element of insanity into any wand was probably a bad idea.

And yet, it had to be something significant- something important. Credence wouldn’t be using the wand as a normal wizard but it was still a powerful symbol.

Impulsively , he pulled out his pocket knife and sheared off a lock of his own hair.  He watched it curl vigorously on his palm. It seemed egotistic in the extreme to think that anything he could give would be sufficient. But the unmistakable sentiment was there. The lion had protected Aliyya, and he would protect Credence, as much as he could for as long as possible. There was a sense of symmetry and continuity that seemed fundamentally right. And, despite the hurt he’d caused, he knew beyond a doubt that he meant quite a lot to Credence.

He twitched his wand and the red lock floated into the air and plaited itself into a tight, shining braid. It nestled into the hollow in the wand perfectly.

Another wave of his wand brought the two halves together again. The line along the seam glowed and faded, leaving whole wood once more. He reached out and plucked the dark wand out of the air.

It was smooth and shining, and it felt quite tip-heavy. Newt frowned, unsure of how to fix the balance issue.

He dug around his bench for a minute and came up with a shining strand of chain. He’d found it in the niffler’s lair and hadn’t been able to figure out where it came from to return it.

He was fairly sure it was platinum since it never tarnished, and that that medal was valuable, at least to muggles. Most importantly it was heavy, and it wouldn’t take much to correct the balance issue. He floated it in the air and flicked his wrist.

“Incindio!”

The chain did nothing for a bit, and then started to glow red. Newt could feel the heat pouring from it. He gestured again and it lengthened, the individual links merging and stretching into a long, shining wire.

He whipped his wand through the air and the metal flung itself around the mahogany wand, coiling around the grip, its own heat burning its bed into the wood. When it had cooled, Newt picked it up again. The metal was cool and smooth under his thumb and forefinger where it had embedded into the wood, and the whole affair was much more balanced. He smirked as he imagined what young Olivander would have to say about his clumsy efforts.

He turned and made his way quickly back to Norah’s lab.

Newt was extremely good at several different kinds of magic. He knew few wizards who could accomplish what he had done to expand the space within his case, and he knew very well how good he was at both protective and combative spells and charms.

But charming objects was not something he’d ever given much thought to or practiced at, with a few exceptions. Not since his time at Hogwarts had he had access to as well equipped an enchanting lab as Norah's and he knew she wouldn’t mind him using the worktop which was already set up with most of the paraphernalia that helped focus and improve the efficacy and longevity of charms. He positioned Credence’s wand in the center of the concentric circles drawn carefully in marble dust and looked the whole setup over quickly before backing away.

He stood quietly for a moment, then closed his eyes and took a few centering breaths.

“If you call for me, no matter where you are, I will hear you, and I will come,” He murmured, repeating the phrase as he ghosted the intricate pattern of the spell with his wand.

This charm was a complex combination of wayfinding, reverse tracking and projection that required multiple layers of intent to work. It was not a spell that was often performed, for once an object was enchanted, the link was irrevocable. Few could manage the depth of commitment necessary to actually pull it off. Newt had done it twice and knew it had worked.

“Sinvoxus Perexerio Sempersentioiuvo!” He commanded, flourishing his wand.

Light bloomed around him and surged through his wand to envelope the other. The sudden change in air pressure blew his hair back from his shining eyes. Tingling heat skittered down his fingers and arm as the connection began to forge.

When he felt the tug of the spell take effect, he leaned in and threw everything he had into it. Keeping Credence at the forefront of his mind, he forced himself to acknowledge and embrace the knotty cluster of associated emotions, imbuing the spell with the full fierceness of his will to protect, and the hitherto unacknowledged depth of his love and care.

The light pulsed and surged, then burst into a shower of ruddy red sparks which flew into and were absorbed by the wand.

"What was _that?”_

Newt jumped and then leaned weakly against the worktop, slapping a hand over his heart.

“Norah! Merlin’s beard, you startled me.”

“What’s it they say? Turnabout’s fair play?” She smirked, then frowned, peering at the wand in his hand.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” She asked.

“It’s not….a normal wand. It’s not inherently magical at all.” Newt said, and raised an eyebrow, inviting Norah’s opinion. She purses her lips, considering. 

“I can see why he’d need one. It might even provide him what he needs to focus his power.”

“Even if it doesn’t…” Newt murmured. “It- it means more to him than that.”

Norah held out her hand and Newt passed her the wand. She peered at it, turning it this way and that, then pulled a small glass out of her pocket and stared through it, along the length of wood. She handed it back, her eyes gleaming in approval.

“Tell me, is there anything you don’t excel at, when you put your mind to it?” She asked. “Because to my mind, you are rather extraordinarily talented. I haven’t seen that particular spell ever cast successfully.”

“It took then?” Newt asked hopefully. One never knew.

“Oh it took alright. And there’s something more there too if this thing is any judge. ” She waggled  the glass in her hand. “Not sure what though. Something to do with those sparks at the end, I’ll wager.” She frowned again. “It’s a risk, you know, laddie. You’re giving up some of yourself. You can never get that back.

Newt gave Norah a sidelong look and a small grin.

“I know,” he said simply, and reached for the wand.

“Well, my boy, gods defend anyone who makes that young man nervous,” Norah smirked, handing the wand back to him. “I’d not want to be on the other side of you when you answer that call.”

Newt flushed at the praise, blinking down at the wand.

“Hang on a tick,” Nora brushed by him and rifled through some shelves. “Ah, here it is,” she murmured, pulling out a long rectangular wooden box. She blew in it, scattering dust and then upended it over her workspace, cursing as odds and ends scattered across the scarred wood. A quick swipe with a handy rag had it cleaned, and she handed it to Newt.

“I never get rid of anything,” she snorted. “That’s the box my Mam’s wand came in. Might as well do it right.”

Newt accepted the box and fit the wand into the depression in the velvet lining. It fit almost perfectly.

“Thank you,” He said, running his thumbs over the fine, shining grain of he wood.

Norah patted his arm. “Between the two of us, we’ll see him alright.”

Newt was shocked to feel the sting of impending tears.

“The thing is,” he said thickly, “You see, the thing is, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what’s.. right. For him. And I’m clearly hardly up to the task.”

“Who knows what’s right for anyone?” Norah patted his arm again. “We do our best. It’s all we can do. And I suspect that Credence will find his own way. He just needs a- a strong hand to help him up, yes? You’re that and more.”

After a moment, Newt nodded. On impulse he grasped Norah’s thin hand and squeezed gently. “Thank you.” He murmured, managing to meet her eyes. She smiled and squeezed back. “I’d better….well. Go give it to him.”

“Yes, you better had,” Norah agreed and watched him stride off, shaking her head fondly.

Newt found himself hesitating outside the door of Credence’s room, inexplicably shaking with nerves. After a good few minutes of mental berating, he shook his head sharply and knocked quietly on the door.

“Credence? It’s— Newt,” he shook his head again. Who else would it be? He was answered by silence. “I- just wanted to… well... to apologize. For being so thoughtless and…” he broke off, hoping for an answer. After a few moments, He twisted his hands around the box. “I- I’ll just leave this here,” he said realizing how much he wanted to see Credence open the box only after he said it. “It’s just here, on the other side of the door... if you… um.” Newt bent and placed the box carefully on the floor, pressing his hand against the wood of the door. He rose and turned away, then spun abruptly back.

“Only, if you could… you don’t have to open the door, but if you- I- are you alright?” He grimaced and stared at the ceiling. “Or will you be? Can I-“ He bit his lip at the sudden scratching at the door. There was a soft thump and then more scratching. 

“Credence?” Newt called louder. Another soft thump and more scratching was his only answer. Panic fluttered through him.  

“Sorry, I’m coming in,” he gripped the door handle and opened the door a crack, pausing to give Credence a chance to react.

Instead, Fluffy blew past him and swooped agitatedly around the hall.

"Oh, no," Newts stomach dropped. He pushed his way into the room, dreading what he was sure he would find there.

Sure enough, the room was empty except for a folded sheet of paper on the chest of drawers that had his name scrawled hastily across it. He lifted it with a shaking hand and read it.

 

“Dear Newt,

I have hurt you, and I am sorry. I am going away so that I can find a way to earn the incredible gifts you’ve given me. When I am better, I’ll come back, if you want me.

Forever yours,

Credence

P.S.  I hope Fluffy didn’t make a mess. She wanted to follow me and I’m sure she could. I know you will find her soon, because I know you will look for me. And I know you could find me too, because you are an amazing wizard.  Please, don’t look, Newt. I need to try and learn how to be myself so that I can be better for you than I am. I am sorry.”

Newt stood, rooted to the spot, shaking with adrenaline and indecision. With every fiber of his being, he longed to cast a tracking spell and find Credence. He could find a way to explain that this whole thing wasn’t serious, that it was a misunderstanding and that he was sorry. He knew he could convince Credence to come back, knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that the young man would do almost anything he asked.

“Newt!”

He jerked in surprise  as Norah burst into the room.

“Oh, bugger.” She said. “He’s gone, hasn’t he.”

Newt nodded mutely. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Norah held up a notebook. “He left this on my worktop,” she shook her head. It’s all his notes. His journal. It’s a wealth of information. I- well I suppose we’d better get to tracking him down hadn’t we.” She drew her wand.

“No,” Newt whispered.

“What’d ya mean ‘no,’” Norah snorted. “You can’t mean to let him go, surely?”

“He has decided to do this.” Newt held out the note and Norah scanned it. “He’s a free man.”

“But Newt, he’s out there, on his own, no papers, muggle or magic, no money...nothing. You-”

“You’re right!” Newt plucked the notebook out of her hand and ripped a blank page out of the back. In the space of a minute, he’d scrawled a message over it and rolled it into a tight cylinder. He bolted through the door, scooping the box off the floor and stuffing the roll of paper inside next to the wand. He rushed into his room, Fuzzy  and threw open the top drawer of his bureau. He dug around for a moment and pulled out a small purse. From it he emptied a handful of gold coins, most of which he nestled next to the the wand in the box. A wave of his wand whipped a spare bootlace out of the drawer and snaked it around the box, tying it closed securely. He gave a little warbling whistle and Fuzzy swooped to his shoulder.

“Newt!” Norah stared at him wide eyed as he clattered down the stairs.

“Sorry, he’s already got ahead start, I have to hurry!” he called, racing across the habitat and up the stairs. He reached the outdoors out of breath and sniffling.

He held out his wrist and Fuzzy walked down onto it. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it the bird. She stretched her fuzzy head forward and rubbed her beak against it.

“Locato _Credence_ ,” Newt said firmly, flicking his wand at the bird. It was nothing to focus his will on his friend. He wanted so badly to follow Fuzzy. Fuzzy preened and cocked her head sideways, gazing down at the box. Newt lifted a loop of bootlace and Fuzzy grasped onto it with one tallon.

"Good luck, duck. He’ll need you.” Newt nuzzled the bird with his nose, but she was already looking to the sky and the south and didn’t seem to notice. With a bump of his wrist, she was airborne and he watched her disappear into the darkness.

“I can’t say I understand,” Norah muttered from beside him. He startled and looked down at the ground.

“No choice, I’m afraid,” he said. His voice was thick with misery. "Despite his technical classification, he is a man. Not a beast that comes when called." He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"It...It was just- a misunderstanding.” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, lad,” Norah’s voice shook and Newt darted a glance at her. Her cheeks were shining with tears. He sniffed and threw an arm over her skinny shoulders and pulled her close. “What did you write?” she asked.

“The address of an acquaintance in Inverness,” Newt said. They both knew there was a bit more that went into that note, but Norah didn’t push.

“What will you do now?” Norah asked. Newt tugged  on her shoulder, pulling her out of the cold night air and towards the kitchen. A cup of tea was definitely in order.

 “Finish my book,” he said. “Visit my mother. Rejoin the Ministry. What about you?”

 “Oh, publish my research.” Norah put her huge copper kettle over a burner. “I’m calling him Subject X. I’ll probably have to pay to print it.”

“I rather doubt it.” Newt smiled slightly. and slid onto he bench at the table. “I rather think the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures will develop a rather invested interest in the re-categorization of obscurials in the near future.”

Norah snorted and placed two cups on the table. “You don’t strike me as being particularly suited to life as a bureaucrat,”

Newt nodded. “I’m really not. But, you see, I don’t want to protect one niffler. I want to protect them all, the little buggers. It’s the only way.”

Norah nodded. They sat in silence in front of the banked fire and sipped their tea.

“He’ll come back, you know.” Norah said after a bit. “He will come back to you. Sure as the sun rises.”

Newt stared at the tea leaves floating in his cup. When he raised finally raised his eyes, they were dry.

 

“All you can do, is all you can do,” Newt sighed. It was a platitude that had soothed him to sleep when he’d been caught up in the terrible unfairness of the world.

“And you have done your best. That boy has things to work though. He is strong and he knows he’s loved and  has a home. It’s really all you need, in the end.”

Newt nodded, knowing she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so hard to write. I had literally 3 different versions of this chapter. For some reasons, this relationship is so hard for me to grasp. What do you all think?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Credence makes a discovery.

It was dark. Credence had not expected this to be as problematic as it was, but then, he’d never known true darkness before, having never set foot out of New York City, where there was always at least atmospheric light.

If he shut his eyes, he could sense the lay of the land ahead of him and continue walking, but after a while, the glaring outlines of spell-light gave him a headache.

So he left the south-running trail and half slid, half fell down the embankment and into a likely looking grove of trees, where he decided to wait out the remaining darkness. He contemplated dissolution, but removing his clothing in such an open space made him feel panicked.

Instead, he pulled his coat around himself and settled against one of the larger trees. He leaned back and stared upwards, through the branches, trying desperately not to think too much, not to feel the leaden weight of his aching heart.

It was right for him to hurt. It was penance. He knew he should embrace the pain, but he tracked the stars whealing slowly overhead to distract himself and tried to let the quiet sounds of the night time forest soothe him.

Inadvertently, the breeze in the trees made him think of Newt and thinking of Newt was impossible without thinking of the pain he knew he was causing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and let the tears flow freely down his cheeks.

A loud crash above him startled him to his feet. There was another crash and an extremely hard object smacked him in the head before tumbling to the ground, followed by a feathered cannonball that hurtled into his chest knocking him backward. He tripped over whatever had hit him in the head and fell, landing painfully with his back against an upturned root.

“Ow! What on earth- Fuzzy? Oh no, no, no…” he carefully caught the furious bird in his hands and sat up, scanning his surroundings.

He’d hoped his note had been enough to dissuade Newt from following, that he’d been able to articulate his need clearly.

He pressed his eyes shut and the woods glowed around him. Subtle lights in the trees indicated the position of roosting birds and squirrels and the like, but there was no sign of anything else, no tramping footfalls or rusting underbrush.

A sharp pain in his hand brought him abruptly back to himself.

“Ow!” He quickly released Fluffy. “You bit me!” Without thinking about it, Credence illuminated the space around him with a dim glow that wafted on the breeze. Fluffy stood on his thigh glaring up at him, utterly unrepentant. He sucked on his thumb, though there was no blood dripping from the wound.

“I guess I deserved that,” he muttered. Fluffy fluffed out her feathers and turned her back on him, but didn’t leave her perch. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t want you to follow me, but I’m glad you’re here now,”

He did feel unaccountably relieved by the presence of his little friend. She made him feel less small not as alone in the vast empty darkness of the Scottish highlands. Fluffy cocked her head at him and then hopped off his thigh and perched on a long wooden box at his feet.

“Is that what you dropped on my head?” He asked, rubbing the sore spot. His body didn’t mark the way it used to, but it still hurt, and the pain still lingered. “I-Is that a bootlace?” Around him the glowing nimbus of light grew brighter, bright enough to make out the grain of the wood and the intricate knots that held the box closed.

He reached for it, and hesitated. Whatever was in that box, he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, was from Newt. It might be anything. It might be a plea to come home. Or, as unlikely as it seemed, a permanent sendoff.

Fuzzy glared up at him from her perch, giving him the distinct impression she wasn’t going to give him a moment’s peace until he opened it. She hopped off the box as he reached for it and gazed at him, blinking owlishly. He drew the box towards him and after some picking, the bootlace fell away. He coiled it carefully up and tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat.

The nimbus of light around him swirled, manifesting his agitation as he ran his fingers over the smooth wood. He sucked in a breath and opened the case quickly, before he lost his nerve.

“Oh,” He blinked down, disbelieving, at the graceful line and subtle luster of the dark wood nested against the other items in the box. He reached for it, and hesitated.

Newt would have never sent him anything as potentially dangerous as a wand that could explode, and he would never be cruel enough to send him one that wouldn’t work. And yet, it seemed impossible that he had found a solution to the problem so quickly. Credence frowned. Even if it was nothing but a piece of wood, it was a gift, and it was beautiful, and he should be thankful. He plucked the wand from it’s bedding.

There was a flash of light where his skin met the wood and a sudden, stunning rush of power flashed through him, raising gooseflesh all over his body and blowing his hair back. The light around him undulated, and the dried leaves on the forest floor were caught up in the air, as though by a gust of strong wind. Ruddy red sparks shot through the air and landed on the skin of his hand, where they were abruptly absorbed.

Credence gasped as he felt a tingling warmth shoot through his fingers and up his arm. It was unmistakably the feeling of Newt’s energy; he could almost feel Newts pressed against his. He felt refreshed and warmed and, for a moment, everything flowed and softened.

The wand warmed in his fingers as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the subtle rise of the metal embedded in its grip. It felt inexplicably right, like it had always been there, the lion’s head nestled into the lifeline of his palm.

Without thinking, he pointed the wand at a nearby fallen log.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

With the swish and flick of his wrist, he felt the tiniest of jolts as the spell took effect, lifting the log feet above the ground. His heart began to pound hard in his breast.

“Reducto!” The small stabbing circle came naturally, the wand’s tip seemed to lead the rest of his hand, just as Norah’s book on wandlore had described. The log burst into sparking shards of fire which fell harmlessly to the forest floor and Fluffy fluttered into the air in surprise, landing behind him, her feathers billowing in indignation.

“Gods above,” He murmured, staring in wonder at the wand in his hand. Without the crystals, he couldn't actually see what had taken place, but he knew. Deep in his body, he knew that those spells had been well formed, efficient, and effective. The fact that the wand actually worked for him was as unassailable as the rising sun.

“Newt, how did you...” He pressed his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Carefully, he slipped the precious sliver of wood into the long breast pocket of his coat that had been made specifically for that purpose, and devoted his attention to the rest of the contents of the box.

The coins shone brightly against the backdrop of black velvet. He knew them to be gold, and had no idea how or where to spend such a fortune, but the fact that Newt had sent him money was confirmation that he had understood; that he had accepted Credence’s choice to be out on his own, rather than hunting him down to get him back. So, it was with a mostly steady hand that he unrolled the accompanying note.

_“Credence,_

_You are a man first, and a wizard second, and an Obscurial last, but certainly not least. Never let anyone, myself included, cause you to to doubt or forget this._

_If you are heading south, I have a friend near Inverness, Camille Macmillan. She will help you if you tell her I sent you. Her address is 230 Highview Road, Inverness. And if you make it to London, or to Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore is the person to go to, should you need anything._

_Your wand is enchanted. If you need me, point it at the sky and call me by my name. No matter where you are, I will hear you and I will come to you, but only if you call me. I will not look for you unless something is very wrong indeed._

_And please know, my dearest friend, that I love you, and that I will always want you. When you feel you can return, you will be welcomed home. Even if home happens to be in a suitcase in Borneo at the time. Or wherever._

_Yours always,_  
_Newt_

_P.S. You can make Fuzzy look like her cousin, the owl. It’s an illusion and will have to be refreshed daily. No one will think twice about a wizard with an owl as his companion, but a Fwooper will draw attention. The spell is simple: Vero Vertibis._

Newt had quickly, but very carefully drawn the spell’s diagram next to the incantation at the bottom of the page.

Under that, in extremely small writing, Newt had written

_“P.P.S. If you can, if you want, please write. Fuzzy will find me.”_

The swirling lines of Newt’s handwriting blurred, and Credence realized he was weeping. Fuzzy nudged up against his leg, cocking her head.

“ _Now_ you’re concerned,” he murmured, swooping her up in his hands and cradling her against his chest. He rocked slightly as he gave himself over to relief and grief; mourning all his life that had passed without love and thanking every deity he could think of that he had it now.

By the time he cried himself out, dawn was greying the horizon. His head ached and his eyes burned, but his heart was lighter, and his resolve stronger, though his motivations had begun to change.

His entire life he’d bent to the will of another. Newt was right, though. He was a man, and a free man, and he could and would forge his own way in the world. And when he returned, it wouldn’t be as a broken boy, but as a man who had accomplished something- anything. Something to redress the balance of harm he’d done. It was the very first thing Credence Barebone had decided to do solely for himself, and it felt wonderful.

Credence climbed to his feet and looked down at himself. His clothes were rumpled and scuffed from his travels. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wand, shivering with the utter joy of it. Pointing it at himself, he gave it a wave.

“Scourgify!” His clothing rippled and straightened, the dirt disappearing right down to the scuffs on his boots. He held out his arm and whistled. Fluffy plummeted out of the tree above him and landed, talons carefully extended to avoid tearing at his clothes. He stroked her feathers down, pulling an experimental tendril of energy from her, while watching her carefully. She preened her wing, totally unconcerned.

Her energy felt different from Newts. It was sharper, somehow thinner, and he realized he had an actinic taste in his mouth. He pointed his wand at her and performed the tight neat swirl in Newt’s diagram.

“Vero Vertibis!” he said firmly. Her feathers rippled and browns, whites and reds chased purples and pinks over her head and back. With a slight shimmer, she shook her feathers and he was looking at a medium-sized barn owl. The owl glanced at him, utterly unimpressed.

“I think you look nice,” He said with a slight grin. He bounced his hand and she fluttered up and settled back down again on his shoulder.

He slid his wand into the pocket of his coat and made his way back up the embankment to the track. He set off at a brisk pace, though he had no particular goal in mind.

For the very first time in his new life, he actually appreciated being an Obscurial. If he had had to worry about where his next meal was coming from, or where he might find shelter, this entire endeavor would have been very different.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Newt's mother, letters are read and written, and Newt's life becomes somewhat more complicated.

Newt cracked open the large wooden door and popped his head through.

“Hello?” he called. His voice echoed off of stone walls hung with dusty portraits. He shouldered his way into the shadowy foyer and glanced around. “Anyone home?” Silence was his only answer. He set his case down on the floor and turned around to exit before swinging back again. He put the case down flat and dragged over a nearby statue of a rearing hippogryph. Grunting softly, he tipped it over onto the case.

“Try to get out of _that_ , then, you little bugger,” he murmured with a grin before wheeling around and bursting back through the door into the sunlight. He walked swiftly down a path along the front of the tall stone house. The pathway descended a small hill and as he rounded the corner, a loud screech of warning stopped him in his tracks. He stood in the cobbled courtyard of an old stable and waited until he heard the scratch-clop of very specific footfalls behind him. He turned slowly, keeping his eyes lowered and caught sight of one of the largest hippogriffs he’d ever seen. The creature mantled and pawed at the ground.

“Easy now, big fellah,” Newt murmured. He bowed low and cocked his head up, catching the Hippogriff’s gaze and holding it steadily. He didn’t move or look away as the animal lunged forward and clacked his beak. His mettle was being tested and Newt had no intention of backing down. sAfter cocking his head back and forth, the Hippogriff lowered his eyes and bent a leg. Newt grinned and approached slowly, reaching a hand out ahead of him. The Hippogriff hesitated a moment, then lowered his head to nuzzle into Newt’s palm.

“That’s it. That’s right,” Newt murmured, scratching his fingers between the glaring eyes. The hippogriff squinted in pleasure and butted up into Newt’s hand. He increased the pressure of his scratching and smiled. “Gods above, I wish Credence was here. He’d love to see you,”

“Newton Fido Artemis Scamander!” the Hippogriff blinked his eyes back open and warbled in greeting. Newt grinned and turned just in time to get an arm full of his mother. Her small, strong body fit perfectly under his arm, and her hair, escaping from it's bun, tickled his neck as she hugged him hard around the middle, before leaning back and grinning up into his face. Newt grinned right back and bent to kiss her cheek.

“Why hello,  _Doctor_  Artemis Scamander, unless I misunderstood the news I heard.” He said proudly. “Sorry for the lack of notice, mum.”

“My dearest boy, you in particular never know where you are until you get there. I see you’ve met Olaf, here. Well done, you! He doesn’t usually cotton onto strangers that quickly.” She reached past him to tweak the giant beak. Olaf clacked in response and pranced in place.

“He’s a giant,” Newt said, swinging an arm around his mother’s shoulders and looking over the Hippogriff with her.

“Yes,” she nodded, pushing a thick curl of ginger hair flecked with silver behind her ear. “He’s my big boy. His da was big too, but not quite as deep around the chest. You should see his plumage. She glanced up at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Might be tempted to take him for a ride?”

Newt shook his head vigorously.

“No, thank you! Keeping my feet firmly on the ground this time around,”

She smiled and nodded.

“After your last fall, I’d be wary too. Though it was a handy bit of apparition you managed.” Newt slapped Olaf on the neck and nodded.

“it was a blessing in disguise, really.” He winced slightly. “Aparating on demand has come in handy a few times since then,” She leaned back and squinted up in into his eyes.

“No easy feat, that. You are so talented, my boy. If only you’d-”

“Water under the bridge, mum,” Newt interrupted, pulling gently away from her. “Looks like you were in the middle of feeding. Can I help?”

“Sure, sure,” she nodded, easily letting the beginnings of an uncomfortable conversation drop. “Been doing more and more with magic now,” She said, leading the way towards the barn. “Bloody hip…”  
Newt shook his head in sympathy and made a mental note to see about getting her to go to a doctor while he stayed with her. Conversation over chores was largely one-sided. By the time he’d mucked out his third stall, he knew all about his brother Theseus’s recent escapades and promotion to head Auror, as well as his recent betrothal to Leta Lestrange.

He was surprised at how little _that_ bit of news bothered him. Between Credence and Tina, the relationship he’d shared with Leta all those years ago seemed a pale, petty thing. Privately, he thought his brother was far more suited to her particular personality than he was. Maybe they could keep each other in check.

“Newt?” He looked over the stall at his mother and blinked.

“Sorry, I was just thinking of Theseus and Leta,”

“Well, you should be thinking about dinner. You can tell me about whatever mischief you’ve been getting up to.” Her sidelong glance hinted that it was likely his name hadn’t been entirely absent from whatever news about New York had been released. “Oh! And you have a pile of mail,” she said. “Three or four letters delivered over the past few weeks.”

Newt gaped at her in dismay. It hadn’t occurred to him that silence from his friends in America was odd. He’d been so preoccupied.

“Oh, bugger. I must have forgotten to remove the Masking spell from my bloody case,” he muttered.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to answer them here. You’ll be staying for a bit, I hope?” He felt a pang of guilt at the obvious plea in her tone. He knew his mother was not above a little well-placed manipulation to get her sons to visit more often, but this was something different. And it had been almost a year since he’d seen her last.

“I was hoping I might finish my book here,” He offered her his arm as they walked back up the hill to the house. The ivy covered dark stone walls glowed brightly in the setting sun. It really was such a beautiful place.

“Oh your book! Yes, of course you can stay and finish it. But you have to tell me everything in repayment. Absolutely everything.”

Over dinner, which was a hastily assembled but extremely satisfying amalgamation of several days of leftovers, Newt managed to get most of “everything” in, though he skated carefully around the details regarding Credence. He wound down as they sat in front of the fire in his mother’s cozy study.

“So, you’re telling me that Graves was Grindelwald the entire time?” His mother shook her head and sipped her tea contemplatively.

“Yes. I had suspected something was off, but when he began that rant about the Statute of Secrecy, it was obvious.”

“At least to you,” She gazed at him proudly and he shifted under her regard. It rubbed him the wrong way to keep things from his mother. They had always been close, especially after his father had reacted so poorly to his dismissal from Hogwarts.

“There is more,” he murmured, setting his cup down. “But it’s harder to explain, and--”

“Is it about the Obscurial?” Artemis asked quickly. Newt nodded.

“Yes. What did the papers say?”

“That he was killed by the American Aurors,” her voice was rife with disgust. “That they ‘regretted the necessity,’”

“It’s true,” Newt furrowed his brow and stared into middle distance. “He was killed. At least, his body was.”

“Oh my dear boy.” Artemis reached forward and covered her son’s hand where it rested on the armchair. “Like Africa, all over again.”

Newt smiled and stared up at the coffered ceiling and squeezed her hand back.

“No, thank all the gods. Credence survived. His obscurus protected his soul. This is, um. Not common knowledge.”

“I should think not! That’s incredible! To sustain himself for that long is unbelievable enough, but this! It would change the way we think about- well. Everything!” Her eyes glowed with excitement. “Is that what that Norah woman you mentioned was looking into? But how did he come to Scotland? Oh, of course!” She interrupted his answer with a wave of her hand. “Of course you found him. Amazing.”

Newt nodded emphatically.

“He is truly amazing. I had no idea what to expect from someone so...well... Traumatized. He came around to the idea that magic not something to be feared or...something evil extremely quickly. I think...well. He had a harder time understanding other things. He may have been afraid that I’d abandon him or- perhaps hurt him.” Newt paused and blinked down at the gently steaming cup of tea for some time. “He got over it quickly though. He absolutely devoured my school books. He has such a natural knack for basically every facet of magic. If only he hadn’t been subjected to that...that…”

“' _Sodding Bitch'_ , I believe is the term you’re searching for, love.” she cocked an eyebrow at his shocked expression. “Call a spade a spade, I say. Though seems a disservice to all female dogs out there. That boy went through hell for no reason at all. It’s strange, though. The Americans usually keep tight watch on their magical folk. They knew about him but didn’t do anything about the situation?”

“Tina didn’t know he was magical,” Newt corrected her. “She did what she could.”

“And no good deed goes unpunished,” There was a pregnant pause and Newt knew she was thinking about his dismissal from Hogwarts again. He wished she could just forget about it. If he had graduated, he’d likely have followed his brother’s footsteps and become an Auror, and he was so much happier with the way his life had turned out. “I rather think I’d like this Tina woman, if I ever got to meet her,” Artemis looked pointedly at her son.

“Oh, it’s, um. Not really like that. Much.” Newt felt his face flushing. “She’s a very good friend, but-”

“But things are complicated.” Artemis nodded and slifted a hand to cover a yawn. “Maybe those letters will clear up some of those tangles.”

Newt shook his head, frowning. 

“Mother, she...she... well.” He wrinkled his nose. “It sounds very dramatic to say it like this now, but she actually did betray me. She turned me over to MACUSA and almost got us both killed. And worse, all my animals- they would probably have been- euthanized. Or sold or-”

“I wager not a day goes by she doesn’t rethink those particular decisions.”

Newt nodded thoughtfully. Tina had said as much, or tried to, in the days before he left. And he didn’t really blame her, much, he told himself. She had, more or less, been doing her job at the time. But there was still a knot of bitterness at the core of his feelings for her, try as he might to let it go.

Artemis yawned widely again and smiled.

“It’s late for these old bones,” she snorted. “Your room is just as you left it. And I mean that literally. You may want to spend the night in that case of yours.” she winked at him as he helped her to her feet. “You do what you need to do to finish that book, you hear? I’ll look for you when I see you.”

Newt nodded and squeezed her shoulders.

“Thanks mum.”

“And don’t forget to answer those letters!”

“I won’t mum.”

“Goodnight, son.”

“Goodnight mother.”

Newt watched his mother leave the room before plopping down in his chair and picking up the sheaf of envelopes his mother had given him. They were all addressed to him in the same angular but feminine handwriting.

He picked up the one at the bottom of the pile and opened it.

_Dear Newt,_

_You’ve only been gone a few days, but I had to write! Boy, are you going to love this. Not only am I an Auror again, but I’m working with the team that’s been assigned the task of finding Director Graves!_

_Piquery is facing some serious heat from the Magical Congress AND the Wizengamut because she didn’t recognize Grindelwald and apparently told him tons of stuff she shouldn’t have even been telling Graves, even if Grindelwald was Graves and not Grindle- you get the picture._

_I’m running down some leads tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll find him, and even more hopefully, he’ll be alive._

_I hope your trip home is going well. Don’t apparate too soon! You’ll splinch yourself._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Tina._

_P.S. Queanie says hi! And write!_

Newt smiled and quickly opened the next letter.

_Dear Newt,_

_Hope you made it safely home. Things here have been getting rough. The leads on Graves I told you about turned up nothing. We do know that he was betrayed from the inside, though. You remember those two women who were going to kill us? They’ve been in on it the entire time. Piquery ordered their execution before I could talk to them. Yet another nail in the coffin for her. She’s aged about a hundred years in two weeks. Personally, I never thought much of her, to be honest._

_Anyway, the only person who knows what’s happened to Graves is Grindelwald. They weren’t going to give me access to him, but somehow he found out (and I’d love to know who told him.) He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone about anything unless it was me. Stayed mum for an entire week. Even somehow withstood an imperius curse (and I’d love to know how he did that.)_

_So they let me in. But all he’ll talk about is Credence. Newt, the things he’s said- the things he said he did to that boy are- I can’t even write them. It makes me sick. Credence didn’t deserve that. He was trying to help and Grindelwald just...used him. In every conceivable way._

_He watches me while he tells me these things. He knows how badly it bothers me and he likes to see that. I keep listening though. I’m hoping he’ll let something slip about Graves. I really think he’s still alive. But it’s hard. It’s really hard. I’m sorry to...bother you with all this. It’s just that I can’t really talk about the investigation to anyone here and- I needed to get it out._

_Sincerely,_  
_Tina_

Newt stared at the letter. Rage boiled just beneath his skin at what Credence had endured, and his guts twisted with guilt that he hadn’t seen it sooner and gotten back to her. She clearly needed a friend, and no matter how hurt he’d been, he wanted to be there for her. He quickly tore open the next letter.

  
_Dear Newt,_

_Aside from the thing with Graves, I’ve been working on something else. I had a hearing yesterday with a Supreme Jury. Thats high-ranking members of the Magical Congress who judge complicated cases. Credence Barebone has been posthumously cleared of all charges that the Congress had brought against him. It wasn’t even that hard. I just showed them the memories of my conversations with Grindelwald. Everyone on the jury agreed that he had been acting under duress and- well. It doesn’t bring him back. But I thought you should know._

_I know my owls are delivering these letters. I keep getting receipts from Scamander. I thought that we were alright, when you left. But I understand if I was wrong._

_But I hope this helps. I hope it shows you that I’m not just the person who turned you over. After they killed him, I didn’t think I wanted to be an Auror again. I couldn’t tell you, somehow, but I almost turned down their offer, even after all the really nice things you said to get me back in._

_I didn't’ want to be a part of a corps that could follow orders so blindly- that could kill an innocent like they did. But that kind of thing is going to happen whether I’m there or not. And if I am, doing this job, I can help. I can try to help. I hope you understand._

_Sincerely, Tina._

_P.S. In case you are getting this, and I’m somehow not getting your responses, here’s my my apartment’s floo address. We just got connected!_

Under the postscript was a very precise diagram delineating the address of a tightly secured floo in the American network. Newt leapt to his feet, scattering the other letters around him and immediately made his way to the fireplace.

With a swing of his wand, the fire banked in the grate roared to life. He reached for the floo powder in its cask on the mantle and threw a hand full over the fire, and then sketched out the intricate diagram in the air. The fire swirled and parted, and he stepped right into its center.

The world turned dark and there was a rushing sound before his vision brightened and he blinked. What he could see of the sitting room he was looking at was not familiar at all. He was about to close his connection when Queenie darted into view.

“Newt!” Queenie’s grin was brighter than the sun, and he couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Wait! Let me get her!” Tina!” She turned and hurried away. Newt glanced around what he could see of the room and began to feel nervous. Before he could think of how to start the conversation, Tina was in front of him, pulling an ornate looking robe around her.

“Oh bugger.” He dipped his gaze and blinked in embarrassment. “I forgot about the time change...I’m sorry.” Tina stared at him for a moment, then smiled a slow, closed lip smile. “Um, hello,” he finished, wincing.

“It’s alright, Newt. I don’t keep regular hours lately anyway,” she said. Newt blinked at her. The floo distorted her features slightly, but he didn’t think he imagined the wariness he saw, or the shadows under her eyes.

“I’m- I’d forgotten to remove the masking spells from my case. It’s happened before. The owls around here know to deliver mail to my mother.” Newt twisted his hands together and stared at them. “Tina, I’m so sorry I didn’t get your letters till now- I haven’t even finished them. I got to the one with the floo address and- well. I- I wanted to tell you…that.”

For one tense moment Tina just stared at him, but then her stern expression dissolved into a wide grin.

“I just knew it was something stupid. I mean. You’re not stupid, just-”

“Oh, look at that! The big, tough auror can’t put a sentence together in front of the darling Mr. Scamander,” Queanie popped into view behind her sister and pecked her on the cheek, before winking over her shoulder at Newt as Tina batted at her. “‘Bout time we saw hide or hair of you, honey!”

Newt waved and flushed as he realized how stupid that probably looked. “It’s, um, good to see you both.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two be. Tina, I’ll be in the kitchen. We’ve got one now, Newt! In a room all by itself!” She blew Newt a kiss as she faded from sight.

Tina rolled her eyes, then looked urgently back at Newt.

“Listen, Newt. There’s something I need to tell you that isn’t in the notes I sent you. I couldn’t risk writing it down, in case they were going to someone else. But this floo is secured. Is anyone around you?”

“No.” Newt said nervously. He had a feeling whatever was coming wasn’t good news.

“Grindelwald has this- this amulet. It’s silver. It was found in the First Salemer’s house. It’s a circle with a triangle in it, with a line through it. I brought it in two days ago to see if It’d get a reaction out of him. It did, alright. He grabbed it right outta my hand and grinned.” Tina shuddered. “But then he did this weird thing. He shut his eyes and after a second he started laughing. He said “He’s alive!” And he wouldn’t say another word. We had to knock him out to get the thing back from him. Newt? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Newt struggled to get control of himself, to slow the panicked beating of his heart.

“Tina, do you have that amulet?” he blurted.

“No, it’s locked up in Evidence.” she frowned at him. “What is it, Newt?”

“Listen. Credence- he’s... He did die. But, not. After I left you, I found him and-

  
“You got back off the boat?!” Tina’s eyes widened in outrage. “Newt, how _could_ you-”

“I didn't know if I could trust you,” Newt scrubbed at his eyes. This was not the way he thought this conversation was going to go. “Please, you have to understand-”

“Yes,” Tina shook her head slowly and sank down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands. “I do. I do understand, Newt. He’s-- Is he like that obscurus from Africa?” When she looked up her eyes were shining with tears. Newt crouched down so he was on her level, his own eyes stinging in sympathy.

“Can I come through, Tina?” he asked softly. This was not a conversation he wished to have remotely.

“You’d better not.” Tina murmured miserably. “You’ll be tracked if you do. Messages aren’t traced, but travel sure is. And, even though it isn’t necessarily illegal, I don’t want attention drawn to you right now.” Tina squinched her eyes shut. “To us. The Grindelwald and Graves investigations are too important.”

“Alright.” Newt said, sitting back on the floor. “Short version then. Credence’s obscurus preserved his soul when the Aurors killed him.”

“Amazing,” Tina’s breathed, watching him intently.

“I took him straight to Norah MacTire,” Newt continued. “She specializes in spirits and magical beings, and she helped us understand more about what happened to him, and how to cope. He’s a miracle, Tina.”

“I imagine you had more to do with his ability to cope, Newt,” Tina said quietly. “He could not possibly have found anyone better to help him.”

Newt ducked his head and flushed at the praise. When he looked up his eyes were shining.

“He’s also absolutely brilliant in his own right, Tina. He stayed with me for weeks. He learned enough about magic in a week to pass the NEWTs, and enough about the theory of spiritual physics to help Norah develop a working theory about Obscurials as actual sentient beings. And he has changed. He got rid of that horrible suit and grew his hair out as soon as he figured out that he could. You absolutely wouldn’t recognize him now. ” Newt smiled proudly, and Tina laughed, delighted.

“It took some time to learn to control his power but he has provided Norah with all the information she needs to make a case for changing the classification for all obscurials- at least sentient ones. If there is ever another one.”

“That’s really fantastic, Newt! the best possible news. I’m not even mad that you didn’t tell me sooner!” After a moment, though, Tina frowned. “Wait, Newt, he stayed with you? As in past tense? He’s not with you now?” she demanded.

Newt shifted uncomfortably.

“No, he’s not- It’s a long story and the floo powder’s almost run out. I’ll write to you about it tomorrow, I promise. But in the meantime, please get that amulet and keep it with you. If Grindelwald can sense him, or track him…”

“Grindelwald’s in prison, Newt. He can’t do anything.”

Tina’s form began to waver. It seemed as though she was outlined in flame. Newt shook his head, pinning his gaze on her.

“Please, promise me, Tina. You said Grindelwald had help from the inside. I don’t _trust_ them-”

“But you trust me?” Tina’s eyes were wide, almost pleading.

“I do.” Newt reached abortively towards her fading form. “I do. I always wanted to, Tina.”

She smiled. “You always can. I promise.”

“I miss you.” Newt blurted out, and was shocked to find just how true it was. Her answer was lost in a rush of flame.

Newt leapt out of the fireplace just as the floo powder’s charm wore off. Absently, he patted his sleeve where a curl of smoke snaked into the air. He felt completely drained and he sank into the armchair again. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

When he let himself, he missed Tina terribly. He hadn’t allowed himself think about her much, but now that he had spoken with her, he desperately wanted her to _be_ actually with her. For her to be with him.

He sighed and half smiled. His mother would not be surprised in the least that he had ended up loving the two people in the world who were the farthest out of reach. He gathered up the letters and shuffled them back into their original order. Tired as he was, he wanted to read what Tina had written so he could compose a decent letter back first thing the next morning.

_Newt,_

_He talked about you today, rather than Credence. I think he’s gotten all the mileage out of Credence with me so he’s switched courses. He guessed you hadn’t written back._

_I didn’t think about it, but I can see why. He’s horrible, but he was right, today. I betrayed you, back then. I thought I was doing my duty, but I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway. I should have trusted my gut. I should have seen you for what you are. I tried to say I was sorry before you left. But, I don’t know. It’s easier to write._

_I’m sorry. If I ever have to make a choice like that again, I will make the right one. You deserved better._

_Yours,_  
_Tina._

Newt bit his lip and shook his head. He hadn’t realized how much resentment he’d been harboring. It made him feel foolish, but unaccountably lighter. A great wrong had righted itself and, though he was still angry about the danger she’d placed his creatures in, he forgave her for himself. And that felt wonderful.

The last letter lay on his lap and he opened it slowly.

_“Dear Newt,_

_Grindelwald wants to know where you are. He said we could trade. He’d tell me where Graves was if I told him where you were. I told him a lot of things, none of which I are fit to be written down. There was some pressure from above to make the trade, but, since don’t know where you are, and even with MACUSA’s network, I couldn’t track you down, I couldn’t. And you need to know, I wouldn’t. I would never had conceded to help them find you for him. Ever._

_As far as I’m concerned, Grindelwald’s a lost cause. We may never find director Graves._

_But he is interested in you for some reason. I don’t know why. Maybe it has to do with Dumbledore? Even though he’s behind bars, you may still be in danger. He has operations all over America and Europe. I haven’t been able to find you. As much as it bothers me, it’s also a relief, because it means it’s unlikely they’ll find you either._

_I won’t bother you with any more letters. I just wanted to make sure you knew what was going on._

_I miss you so much, Newt. I’m sorry things turned out this way. Good luck.”_

_Yours,_  
_Tina_

“Merlin’s beard.” Newt rubbed his eyes. It was pure happenstance that he had ended up in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, and now was hardly closer to civilization at his mother’s, and that he’d forgotten to remove the He’d been extremely lucky. But that meant that there were people after him, for whatever reason. With that in mind, one letter could not wait till morning. He rose and slid into his mother’s chair behind her desk, pulling over a sheet of paper and a quill.

_Dearest Norah,_

_I’ve been alerted that Gellert Grindelwald, whom you will have heard of if you read the papers, has an interest in my whereabouts. Though he is currently in prison in America, he does have supporters and others in his employ who will be looking for me._

_I only mention this because I visited you, and if anyone knew that, they may tip off Grindelwald’s men, however inadvertently. Please do let me know if you run into any trouble on my account._

_All the best,_  
_Newt._

_P.S. If you hear from Credence, please let me know. I’m really trying not to be, but I’m worried sick about him._

He folded the note into an envelope and addressed it, then made his way swiftly to his mother’s owlcote. He held up his arm and one wide awake barn owl hopped onto it.

“To Norah MacTire, Harold. And be quick, if you please,” He brushed his fingers lightly over the owl’s ears and bounced his wrist, sending the bird winging his way north and east.

Satisfied that he once again had done everything that could be done, he descended into his case and tidied up his workshop until his eyes drooped. Slowly, he made his way back to his home fighting to overcome a powerful sense of melancholy that was entirely outside his nature.

Credence’s ornate victorian wing was the first part of the house to come into sight and he spent a few minutes staring at it, remembering the night they’d created it. It seemed like ages ago, though it was less than a month past. He looked down at a tug on his pant leg and bent to lift Dougal. The Demiguise snuffled and wrapped his arms around Newt’s neck and wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of Newt’s neck.

“And what would I do without you, old man,” Newt smiled, somewhat comforted, and continued onto the house.

Sleep did not come easily for him. He tossed and turned, thinking off and on about Credence’s whereabouts and what he could possibly be getting up to. He thought about Tina and the welter of unexpected emotions seeing her had brought up, and how he would phrase his letter to her tomorrow, to try and explain the tectonic shift his life had taken since landing in New York.

He fell asleep, however, wondering why Grindelwald cared so much about him. He suspected Tina was right, and decided that it was about time to contact Albus Dumbledore and find out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Newt's mysterious friend, and Credence makes important progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken the rating of this story from T to M. It was bound to happen... ;)

Credence looked at the address scrawled on the piece of paper in his hands and back up at the bustling circular courtyard fronting the massive house across the street from him in consternation. He wondered if Newt had written the address down wrong. Absently, he checked the street name on the corner sign. It was correct. Shrugging, he glanced up at the barn owl in the tree next to him,

“Wait here, Fluffy,” he murmured. He caught her eye. “I’ll come back for you,”

He made his way cautiously across the street, squinting against the early morning light and dodged a large box truck that turned swiftly into the courtyard, almost hitting him as it swung in.

As he approached the front in the house a large man levered himself out of the truck and started to undo the rear cargo doors with little regard for the people who streamed around hm.

“Mack! Wait a tick!”

A small, black-haired woman in a neat, blue, calf-length dress and beautifully shining shoes raced out of the front entrance. “Groceries are to be delivered to the back, by the kitchens.” She said. The man began unloading crates anyway.

“Nothing doing, Miz Macmillan!,” he grunted. Stacks of crates full of produce and meats were growing around him rapidly. “There’s a whole slew of vehicles delivering down there and I haven’t the time to wait. Got a schedule to keep!”

“You can’t just leave all this off here! Who will take it down?”

Credence wondered at the man’s unperturbed face. He would not be so calm if he was at the other end of that glare.

“Sorry, ma’am, this was a last minute order, and I’ve other deliveries to make.” The man slammed the door of the wagon shut and was pulling back out of the courtyard before the woman could muster a retort.

Credence watched her snag the sleeve of one of the lads passing by her with his arms full of flowers.

“Jim, can you be a darling and carry the produce down to the kitchens? It’ll wilt in this sun,”

Jim stared at her uncomfortably.

“Of course, ma’am, only, you said I had to get the ice into the boxes before-“

“Quite right, quite right. On your way, there’s a lad.”

She looked around and shrugged.

“Nothing for it,” She grumbled, and bent to pick up one of the cases.

“Ms. Macmillan?” Credence hurried over, hardly thinking.

The woman looked up absently, then did a perfect double take and raised fine eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” she stood straight and looked at him squarely. “I don’t believe I know you.“

“That’s because you don’t,” Credence blurted, feeling his face flame. “My name is Credence Barebone. I'm a friend of Newton Scamander, and-“

“Newt! You’re Newt’s friend?” She cried, her face splitting into a blinding, infectious grin that Credence could not help but return with a bashful smile of his own. “Merlin’s beard,” she muttered, her countenance darkening suddenly. “Much as I’d love to offer you hospitality, darling, the Lodge here is in a bit of a crisis at the moment. Surprise guests, if you can believe it. A whole lot of toffs from London to come up tomorrow. If you go inside to my office I can see you in-“

“No, no, please.” Credence held out his hands. “I was just going to offer to help you. Those are huge, and you-“ he looked down at her petit form, blinking. “You are not.”

“Bless you, Credence, you’re sent from the gods, and I will not turn away a helpful hand right now! Blast all these…muggle workers!” She hissed. Then she leaned over and whispered to him conspiratorially. “If they hadn’t been sent ahead to help, I’d magic the whole thing together in minutes.” She glowered darkly, her ice-chip eyes sparkling. “Anyhow, kitchen is straight in through the main door here and down the stairs to the left. I promise you a feast later for recompense and you must tell me everything about our friend Newt!”

She bustled away and Credence hefted a crate of lettuce into his arms and carried it inside. What had appeared to be a large hall or house from the outside was quite clearly a hotel on the inside. Polished wooden floors covered in ornate Moroccan rugs blended up into beautifully worked paneled walls adorned with hunting scenes and an impressive array of extremely well done taxidermy. The furniture was understated and elegant and the entire ambience was all together welcoming.

The polished wood gave way to clean tile as he passed through a doorway in his left into a well equipped and spacious butlers pantry. He defended the adjoining stairway into a lower level that was far more utilitarian, though equally clean and airy. He followed the unmistakable scents of cooking towards a large brick-floored kitchen which was a hive of activity. He looked around for a place to set the crates and, before he could get properly flustered, a voice piped up.

“You there! With the crate! Mac finally been by? Is that lettuce? Bring it here, laddie!” Credence wove his way over to a massive, red-faced woman standing next to an enormous wood fired stove. She grinned and took the crate from him, slinging it over onto a nearby worktop. “Recon the rest is upstairs? That lazy eejit can’t be bothered to drive down here. The rest can go to the larder. She turned away and then looked back, seeming to actually see him for the first time. “Unless… oh lord, you don’t look like the help!” she said with sudden deference.

“Oh!” Credence looked down at himself in surprise. “I’m not. Just- temporarily helping Ms. Macmillan. As- as a favor.”

“Well she will surely owe you is great one in return. Grab an apron on your way through those doors. That’s a fine suit. You’ll not be wanting to dirty it.” Credence saw the wisdom in this, for though he was sure Camille was a witch, everyone else nearby seemed to be muggles, and he would not be able to clean his clothes by spell without being noticed.

He hung his jacket on hooks by others he saw, after carefully ensuring his wand was well concealed in the inside pocket, and grabbed one of the aprons hanging nearby, and went up to haul other crates down.

It was coming on dusk hours later when he ran into Camille on the stairs. He was carrying the last of a polished tea set, and her eyes widened.

“Credence! Don’t tell me you’ve been at it all day! Gods forgive me, I am the absolute worst host imaginable.” she brushed aside his objections before he could even voice them and shook her head. “Don’t disagree with me, darling, it never works,” she winked and grabbed the tea set out of his hands nodding for him to follow her as she walked up through the parlours.

“Listen, all this, this-- craziness, is about over. The place is as ready as it can be for their arrival tomorrow and the staff can handle it after that. The only reason why things were so hectic in the first place is because we’re opening up for the season just now, and these bloody jokers announced that they were coming a week early. Can you imagine! I nearly told them no, but I have reputation to sustain, you know, and all these people to keep employed, so instead we’re all run ragged. But I’ll make it up to you!” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve got some great wine in and everything we need for a suitable dinner is already pretty much ready. Let’s eat on the veranda! It’s through those doors, I’ll meet you there!”

Credence obediently made his way over to the doors and, once outside, realized why Camille chose to eat outside. The house backed up to a beautiful lake and the sun setting over the mountains behind it made it dazzlingly beautiful.

“Ah, yes, the view often does that, the first time you see it,” Camille burst through the doors swinging her wand. A variety of foods and cutlery flew around her and clattered down onto a nearby table. “Sit! Drink! Eat! Tell me about yourself. Start with how you know that villain Newton Scamander, if you please.” Camille’s eyes twinkled at him.

Credence felt a small flair of panic as he seated himself. He hadn’t given much thought to how he would explain himself. Though he was not at all thirsty, he took a sip of the wine that filled his glass to buy himself some time. It backfired badly. He’d never had wine and was totally unprepared for how much he enjoyed it. It distracted him utterly for whole seconds.

“Sorry!” he said, setting the glass down a little too abruptly. “That’s really good.”

“You like wine! How wonderful. And you’re American, unless I miss my guess? Marvelous.”

Credence found it impossible to remain uncomfortable in the presence of this small dynamo of cheerfulness. He smiled.

“Yup! From New York City. That’s where I met Newt. He was traveling over there a few weeks ago.”

“Was he! I’ve always wanted to visit New York. Why was he in America?”

“To release a stormbird back into its natural habitat,” Credence explained proudly. He followed Camille’s lead and spread something that smelled deliciously of chestnut over a piece of toast. He took a bite and was unable to keep a quiet sound of appreciation from escaping as the flavor burst over his tongue.

“I’m so glad you’re not a vegetarian like our dear Newt. I understand, of course, but it was always so dreadfully hard to cook for him. That’s the rabbit terrine Cookie made yesterday. Isn’t it divine. I swear she’s got to be at least partially magic.”

“She’s not though, is she? No one else here was, other than yourself, and me.”

“Got it in one.” Camille studied him for a moment, then popped another piece of terrine-covered toast into her mouth. “I largely abandoned the wizarding world a few years ago. No love lost between me and the Ministry, I can tell you. Still watch me like hawks, they do, afraid that I’ll break their blessed ‘statute of secrecy.’” Credence blinked at her.

“Hawks...Oh, no. Fuzzy!” Camille watched, mystified, as Credence darted from the table, and down onto the broad, green lawn that stretched between the hall and the lake. He whistled sharply, three times and looked at the sky. After a few moments, a streak of purple and pink shot down from the thick canopy of a nearby tree and hit his arm gently after backwinging at the last moment.

“I’m sorry,” Credence said when he had made his way back to the table. “I usually enchant her to look like an owl, but-”

“But today you were too busy helping me! Is that a Fwooper?” Camille looked delighted at his nod, and thrust out her arm across the table, nearly upsetting a wine bottle. Fuzzy looked at the dainty wrist critically before fluttering over and gently landing, keeping her talons well back. “What a little darling!” Camille crowed. “I can see why you’d need to keep her enchanted, though. Stunning plumage. Would you mind perching there, little darling, just until we eat,” Camille moved her arm over to the back of the wicker chair next to her and Fuzzy took her place as requested, blinking slowly.

“I think she likes you as much as I do,” Credence said, amused. Then his eyes widened. “That is- I mean. Only that it’s impossible to be nervous around you,” he blurted. Camille wrinkled her nose at him and took a deep draught of wine.

“Shocking, since I made you slave away all day. Say you’ll stay until I can pay you back.”

Credence nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you need help,” he said. She nodded, satisfied.

“So! You met Newt in New York, and then?”

“Well, he invited me to go with him. I, um. Got along with the animals pretty well, and he’s working on his book and needed an assistant.”

“And, I’ll wager, you didn’t have much to leave in New York. Probably eager to get away, all things considered.”

Credence caught himself nodding before he realized what he was agreeing to. His knife clattered to the table as he found himself transfixed by Camille’s shrewd, calculating look, which made his heart hammer in panic.

“You’ll need to be more careful, Mr. Barebone.” She said softly. “You’re not isolated in the highlands anymore. I read the papers, you know. They never mentioned the name of the Obscurial that ripped down half of New York, and you don’t look much like the picture of you I saw weeks ago, but you’re young, you’re American, and you’re friends with Newt. It would not be difficult for anyone to make the connection.”

Credence flushed, glaring down at his plate, feeling utterly foolish and furious at himself for being caught out the very first conversation he’d had since leaving Newt.

“Oh darling, I’m sorry.” Camille sighed. “I can be a beast, when I try. We’ll come up with a better cover story for you and I’ll arrange for papers, and an alias. It’s good that Newt sent you to me. I’m much better at all this stuff than he is.”

“Why?” Credence murmured, staring at her.

“Why what, sweets?” she asked, taking a bite and a sip of wine.

“Why help? Why care? You hardly know me.”

Camille crinkled her nose at him again and her eyes twinkled.

“I owe Newton Scamander quite a large favor. I think he probably remembers, but you never know with him. I remember though. I can begin to pay him back by helping you. Plus! Believe it or not, I like you, though, as you’ve said, I’ve hardly had a chance to get to know you. I have this knack. Not really legilimency, but something like it. I can’t help but get the mettle of the people I meet. It made working at the Ministry impossible after I reached a certain level, bloody blackguards, but it’s comes in handy. And I like what I feel from you, Credence. You are bound and determined to be your own man and I can relate.” She said firmly.

Credence regarded her for a long moment, trying to figure out if he trusted her. Though Newt hadn’t directly sent him here, as she seemed to think, he had recommended looking her up, and Credence couldn’t believe he’d knowingly send him into any kind of danger.

“How did you know I was in the highlands?” he asked, not quite accusingly.

“Well.” She smiled, pouring them each more wine. “You didn’t smell of coal, so you didn’t come by train. You don’t have muggle money, or you’d never have left your jacket unattended, so you couldn't have come by any other conveyance. So you walked. Nothing in walking distance around here for weeks but the highlands. Also, Newt’s mother lives in the highlands somewhat near here. I don’t know if you’ve been staying with her, but it’s as good a guess as any.”

Credence blinked at her.

“So, darling, I really do have a task needs doing, and I’d be ever so obliged if you’d help me. It’s a bit… well. Odd.”

“I’m happy to help any way I can. Especially since you’ve said you’ll help me so much. I didn’t even know I needed papers, let alone which ones, or how to get them.”

“Always hear the request first before you jump to help, Credence. What I’m going to ask of you is far harder and more dangerous than getting a friend at the Ministry to forge some papers. But I haven’t seen Nessie in so long and I’m getting a bit worried for her.”

“Nessie?” Credence asked. Camille blinked and stared at him a moment.

“Do you know what lake this is, Credence?”

“No,” Credence determined abruptly to read every book on Scotland he could find. ”I didn’t learn much, um. Geography. In America.”

“Ah,” The piercing look Camille shot at him gave him the distinct impression that that statement had told her far more than he had intended. “Adding a map to your list then!” She smiled. “This is the famous Loch Ness. Home of the famous Loch Ness Monster- That’s how all the crazed muggles in the area refer to her anyhow. Nessie’s really just an old softy. She lives in the depths, most of the time, but once in a while, she gets lonely, and comes up to see how the world spins. I usually hear her calling before she comes and I conceal her. Can you imagine what the muggles would do to her if they saw her?” Camille’s eyes hardened. “Bunch of bloody savages,” she muttered.

Credence shifted uncomfortably. It’s not that he disagreed, far from it. It was just that, from his perspective, wizard-kind was just as savage. He decided to keep that thought to himself.

“Anyhow. Given your, uh, specific nature, I think it might be far easier for you to go down there and check up on her than it would be for me, and now I have the bloody tourist comming early, so I’m not sure when I’ll get the chance.”

Credence considered. He knew he didn’t have to eat, and didn’t have to drink. Did he really have to breathe? He wasn’t sure. The thought of not doing so made him extremely nervous.

“I can certainly try.” He looked out over the vast darkness of the part of the lake that was in view. “Do you- have any idea where she is out there? It could take a long time to find her.”

“Now you’re starting to understand my predicament. I’m not sure where her lair is. I’ve cast several tracking spells and I’ve picked up her trail slightly to the west, but I lose it when she dives. My range is just not that long. And- well.” Camille grimaced. On her impish face, Credence found the expression adorable. “Oh, fine. I don’t mind telling you. I’m not a strong swimmer and I hate the water, and I’m terrified of the darkness under the water. So that’s really why I haven’t gone. But I am quite worried for her. It’s been months since she’s surfaced. I’ll tell you what, let’s go out on the boat tomorrow after everyone’s arrived and I make sure the staff is good to go. We’ll try to pick up her trail and you can see what you can see. Sound good?”

Credence nodded. It sounded very good indeed. He was relieved that he could help, that there was something for him to do. Plus, Newt would would be thrilled that he was potentially helping a magical beast.

“Credence,” Camille’s voice was quieter and when he glanced over at her, she was tracking the progress of the moon’s rising with a pensive expression. “Tell me about Newt, please,”

Credence recognized the look of loneliness on her face in that unguarded moment. He wondered about their history, and, with a shot of guilt, realized he didn’t know terribly much about Newt’s past himself.

“He… is fine. After New York. He was in trouble there, I think, but got out of it. He has a case of creatures- I don’t know if you knew that?” Camille shook her head. “It’s, um. Lots bigger on the inside. And he keeps, oh, about a hundred different types of creatures that he’s rescued or wanted to study. He’s collected them over the past year from all around the world, as he’s researched his book. He’s...wonderful. Kind, and unbelievably awkward sometimes. How did you know him?” Credence hoped she would pick up the conversation. Talking about Newt was difficult for him.

“We met at the Ministry.” Camille laughed suddenly at the memory. “He was a Hogwarts dropout, or got expelled, I can’t remember which. I think one of his professors recommended him for a job and, in typical fashion, the idiots plunked him down in House Elf relocation. One of the brightest minds that ever passed through those doors got sent to the basement to process bloody paperwork.” She tisked. “I was newly graduated myself...I was a few years ahead of him in Hogwarts, you see, and I was on the fast track to soar through the ranks of administration and become Minister of Magic myself. At least that was my goal. I was young and don’t understand what that meant, really.

“I was working as the assistant to the director of of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when Newt came barreling through the door of my office one morning, demanding to see the Director about some infraction regarding the especially poor treatment of one of the elves that crossed his desk. I directed him to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and he looked at me with those big, blue eyes and threw a picture onto my desk. It was a house elf who had been….It was unpleasant in the extreme. ‘That’ he said, “Is not a crime specific to the control of magical creatures. Where you find that kind of abuse, there are other things that are very wrong. Please help me,” She glanced over at Credence. “Do you know how rare it is for anyone in the Ministry to admit they need help? They cajole, they backbite, they manipulate. But no one, especially no one male, ever asks outright for help. And he was pleading, right off the bat. I have to tell you, I was powerless to say no to him,”

Credence nodded, entirely familiar with the feeling.

“He was right, too. That family was up to their eyeballs in all sorts of nastiness. Bringing them down got me a major promotion. Newt refused to take any credit. All he cared about was getting that poor house elf it’s clothing and getting it out of that place. She died anyway, and it broke his heart. I’d...stalled the investigation until we had all our ducks in a row, you see. I wanted to nail them right up the wall. Had we gone in sooner...the poor thing might have lived. We continued to be friends, though, despite the fact that I’m sure he blamed me for her death. We helped each other out. But he wouldn’t do what was necessary to rise in the ranks of the Ministry. Eventually, I wouldn't either. He left before I did. Hared off after his beasties. Shortly after, I left and I took on this place. It’s been in the family on and off for generations. Turned my back on the lot of them. You think the house elf thing seems unfair? That’s just the beginning. I simply couldn’t stomach it.” She shook her head once, as though to shake off an annoying insect.

Credence watched her face- the smooth mask of complacence under which he could see a churning river of pent up emotion.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said quietly. “I- I never really asked Newt about his past. I was only with him for a few weeks before-” he cut himself off abruptly. He really did not want to talk about all that. Camille glanced at him sharply, but let it pass.

“I’m glad he’s well, and that he’s doing what he loves,” she murmured. “He deserves that. Does he know about Leta and his brother?”

“Newt has a brother?” Credence blinked in surprise.

“Ah. He never mentioned him? That’s interesting.” Camille’s eyes glinted. “Theseus took after Newt’s father, I gather. He can be a bit of a bastard. Made a name for himself as a war hero. While Newt was wrangling actual dragons, dear Theseus headed up a few skirmishes. He’s head auror or some such now. Betrothed to Newt’s old flame, Leta.”

Credence thought about the picture of the woman he’d seen in the workshop and grimaced.

“I don’t think he knows.”

“Well, if he ever comes up for air, he’ll find out. Leta’s a bloody socialite from a very well known family and all the papers talk about is her wedding plans. As if there aren’t more important things to care about.

“For someone who left the wizarding world, you seem to know a lot about it.” Credence said, before he thought about it. Before he could gasp out an apologize, he caught Camille’s look of approval.

“Keep your enemies close, as they say.”

Credence took a sip of wine and brooded in that for a bit.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His eyes snapped up, and he hesitated for a moment.

“I was just thinking about enemies… and how I don’t think I could ever bear to keep mine close.

“No, I’d imagine not,” Camille shook her head in sympathy. “But enough of this maudlin nonsense! You’ve given me some extremely good news about my friend, and an answer to my prayers for someone to help with Nessie. For that, you get the Blue Suite and are hereby ordered to sleep yourself out. I’ll have breakfast brought up to you in the morning and I’ll look for you when I see you!”

With a wave of her wand, she vanished the remnants of the excellent dinner and the cutlery and swiped at a few imaginary crumbs on the immaculate white table cloth.

“Actually if it’s not too much trouble, do you have any books on Scotland or… geography of any kind? I don’t sleep much.” Credence asked as he rose.

“He’s a reader too! Marvelous. I’ve got loads of books- a whole library full! I’ll show you on the way to the room and you make yourself utterly at home.

Later that night, he sat at the huge and very blue desk in his blue-themed room and thumbed through an interesting book about the various kinds of underwater flora and fauna that flourished in the lochs of Scotland.

As an experiment, while he read, he took a deep breath and held it. Three chapters later, he realized he’d forgotten to let it out. He slowly shut the book with shaking hands and looked across the room at his reflection in the full length mirror. He looked normal, but not. The absence of the subtle rise and fall of his chest was wrong. Very, very wrong.

He opened his mouth and breathed in, and the fact that it was an easy inhale, instead of a gasping, sucking for breath that it should have been, was also so very wrong, so abnormal. He felt inexplicably nauseous at yet another, totally unmistakable sign of how absolutely inhuman he’d become.

Panic fluttered deep in his belly he was only half successful in quelling it. He’d had these episodes a few times in the past as aspects of his nature asserted themselves. Newt had always been there with a touch or a word, and later a hug or a gentle kiss, reminding Credence that he was real, corporeal, fine. Now, in the wee hours of the morning in an almost empty hotel, even Fuzzy had drifted off. On top of everything, he was alone.

On impulse, he pinched himself hard on the arm and relished the radiance of pain. It anchored him; reminded him that some things at least hadn’t changed. He soothed over the spot and stroked his fingers gently up his arm, shivering at the spread of goosebumps and the delicate feel of the hair in his arm rising under the soft sleeve of his shirt.

Slowly, he removed his jacket and his shirt, arranging them carefully on hangers, turned back to the mirror, and stared at his reflection. For the first time he could remember, he really looked at his body. He watched himself raise a hand and lay it softly over his heart as though he was watching a different person.

He took a deep breath and held it. He could still feel the strong beat of his heart thrumming under the warm, firm, flesh beneath his palm.

 _It’s fine._ He thought. _I’m fine._ _Different, but fine. Better? I can choose to breathe or not. That’s… good. A benefit. It’s useful. It’ll be useful tomorrow. It feels fine. I’m fine. I'm fine._

He stared at his body and felt as though it did not belong to him. He assumed this was not normal, that it was some sort of byproduct of his upbringing. He could not imagine Newt feeling like a stranger in his own skin. He slid his hand experimentally down over the soft ridges of his ribs and the subtle ripples of his stomach muscles.

Touching himself like this, outside the context of necessity, felt like claiming land, like discovering new things. As he watched his fingers graze over scar tissue and smooth, soft skin, he felt the same sense of strength that had come with his decision to leave Newt’s support and go out on his own.

“Mine,” He said out loud, pressing against his stomach. The pressure of his own hand against his skin brought back a myriad of sensory memories; Newt’s hands on him, hesitant and gentle, as they lay on the lawn, Grave’s coarse shove as he’d pinned Credence between his body and a dirty brick wall in a New York alleyway, and then Newt again, drifting strong fingers through his long hair, cradling his head as Credence leaned into him, brushing his lips softly over the freckled skin just above Newt’s collar.

The sound of his own quiet moan startled him, and without conscious thought, he cupped his hand over his swelling penis, palming over the hardening flesh.

There was a brief, intense internal battle between inherited shame and burgeoning arousal, but in the end, his living, breathing, healthy body’s yearnings won out over the residual guilt of Ma’s ludicrous teachings; another chain slung off.

He staggered backwards towards the bed, falling half onto it and shimmying hastily unbuttoned trousers and underwear down his thighs. For the first time in his life, Credence laid his own hands on himself for the specific purpose of bringing himself pleasure.

His breath hissed from his lungs and body flexed and bowed as he gave himself wholly over to the sensations that flooded through him. It was almost too much to bear, and he was forced to let up, to slow down and let his body adjust to the intensity of the pleasure that radiated from the delicious ache between his legs. One hand roamed restlessly over his chest and stomach, alternatively stroking his own skin and digging his nails into it to counterbalance the intensity of the sensation and prolong his pleasure as he stroked himself.

He found himself imagining what would have happened if he’d done this sooner, if Newt had found him like this, touching himself in his room.

He’d watched Newt’s reactions to their brief forays into physical affection closely, noticed the way the blue gaze darkened, how his gentle countenance would sharpen with carefully controlled lust churning just beneath the carefully controlled surface of gentle tenderness.

He imagined that careful control breaking, and Newt pulling him close. Credence sank his nails into the skin above his collarbone as he imagined the love bite that Newt had once teased at with gentle licks and nips. His back arched and his head slammed into the mattress as he came with sudden, searing intensity.

As his body unwound, and he lay panting and loose-limbed on the mattress enjoying the minute aftershocks of pleasure, the old, reflexive shame struggled to assert itself, creeping like cold oil from the pit of his stomach. Credence stroked his hand over his twitching muscles and shook his head sharply.

“No,” murmured, “This is fine. I am fine. It’s all fine.” Hearing his own voice, steady and low, was enough to temporarily cap the wellspring of darkness that still existed inside him. He knew then that he’d always fight it, figured sometimes it would win. “But that’s fine,” he murmured again. “I’ll be alright,” He smiled and flicked his fingers over is body. He didn’t even murmur ‘scourgify,’ just imagined the sticky mess gone, and it was. He grinned at the ceiling.

“I love magic,” he said to no one in particular. He sat up after some time and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes and boots which he folded carefully. He caught sight of the reflection of his nude body and looked away quickly. It was too much all at once. Rather than worry about it, he let his head fall back and opened his arms, allowing his form to dissolve for the first time in since he’d left Norah's house.

He was still dissolute when the sun rose, shining brightly through his window, and he didn't’ see the snowy owl fly into the gulfs of light, an envelope clutched in its talons. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt has dinner with his family and there are several unexpected visitors.

_ Newt, you utter villain, I hope this note finds you in top shape. _

_ I’ve had a surprise visit from a very special man, and I thought you would like to know. Credence arrived at the Lodge yesterday. I put him right to work, I’m afraid, but he coped magnificently.  _

_ I’ve pieced together the majority of his story from the information in the Daily Prophet and his own account of how he met up with you. With all the kerfuffle around Grindelwald, it’s best he keeps a low profile here. I’ll be fixing him up with an alias and travel documents. From what he didn’t say, though, I gather you two had something of a disagreement, and he left? He holds you in such high regard, it’s hard for me to believe, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.   _

_ Anyhow, you’ll be happy to know he’s quite well, and I find him utterly charming. He will be welcome here as long as he likes. He’s eager to help out, so I’m sending him to look for Nessie. It’ll keep him out of other kinds of trouble, and I am actually quite worried about her. Haven’t seen her in an age. I kept meaning to write to you and ask about it.  _

_ Fondly,  _

_ Camille _

_ P.S. He’s told me you’re writing a book about beasts, and that you have a case full of them. How extraordinary!  I expect a signed copy.  _

_ P.P.S. Does he know that Goldstein woman got him pardoned? Read about that a few weeks back. _

_ P.P.P.S. It didn't’ occur to me till just now, but Credence looks incredibly familiar to me for some reason. He was adopted, correct? Any idea who his natural parents were? Nothing like a good mystery! _

Newt held the note in his hand smiled. Relief washed through him in a shaky tide and he thumped down onto his seat. 

“Good news?” his mother asked from the doorway of her study. 

“Extremely good,” he nodded, thumbing the edge of the paper. “Credence made it to Camille Macmillan. She’ll take care of him.” He blinked at his mother’s frown. 

“Are you sure he’d be best off with her Newt? She’s a-”

“She’s a friend of mine,” Newt said mildly. “And a good person, despite...despite everything. She’s getting him travel documents, and she’ll teach him how to keep a low profile. It’s the best I could think to do. Hopefully he’ll make his way to Dumbledore sooner rather than later.” 

Newt watched his mother struggle not to disagree with him. He knew of her unfavorable opinions concerning Camille and the entire Macmillan clan, and agreed with her wholeheartedly, at least about the family. Their devotion to the idea of pureblood supremacy was ridiculous in the extreme. But he knew Camille was different from the rest of them, and that it was likely that Credence would be able to make up his own mind about such things, should they come up. 

“Well, as long as we’re talking about good news, your brother is coming to visit!” Artemis cocked an eyebrow at Newt. “He’s bringing Leta.” 

Newt gave her a wry look. “And father?” 

“I’ve sent an invite. It’s unlikely he will accept. He and Theseus see a lot of eachother at the Ministry. No reason to truck all the way out here to the  _ middle of nowhere, _ ” she said stiffly. Newt instantly felt badly for needling her. 

“I’m sorry, mother,” he murmured. She shook her head irritably, and then smiled. 

“Oh it’s alright, love.” she sighed happily. “I’ll just be thrilled to have my boys under one roof again, at least for a little while. How goes the work? 

“Actually…” Newt felt a shiver of excitement skate down his spine. He hefted a thick sheaf of papers in his hand and grinned. “I think...I think it’s done. I think… it’s as good as I can make it. I was going to wrap it up and send it off to my publisher today.” 

Artemis beamed at him and clasped her hands in front of her. 

“That’s wonderful news Newt!” She cried. “We will celebrate doubly tonight, then. I’m going to get the bedrooms fixed up and make a start on dinner. No! No, you get that book squared away,” she waved him back into his chair as he got up to help. “I can manage, dear boy.” She swept out of the room with an air of excitement and Newt smiled fondly after her before frowning gently. Aside from a few scant communications, he hadn’t heard or seen his brother since well before he’d left on his travels. He found himself excited by the prospect more than anything. And seeing Leta would be...fine, he thought. He hoped. He shrugged of those thoughts and bent to package up his book. His fingers rested over the title page. 

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.  _

He’d inscribed the title in red ink. It was perfect. He felt a curious pang of loss at having finished it. It had been the focus of his life for so long, he hardly knew what to do with himself now that it was done. He would wait for its release and reception before applying to the Ministry. He had no intention of returning as a lower functionary.  In the meantime, what? 

“Borrowing trouble, Scamander,” he murmured as he boxed the pages up and securely tied the package shut. He wrapped it in paper and without ceremony, sent it by floo to his publisher. 

Then he quickly turned back to the desk and pulled parchment and quill towards him and quickly wrote two important letters, after which he went in search of his mother, intent on helping her. 

He was in the courtyard of the stables, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bent over Olaf’s huge hoof which he had clasped firmly between his thighs. He was almost done trimming the overgrown rind from the outside when he heard the telltale whoosh-pop of apparition behind him. He rolled his eyes. 

“Theseus, please don’t move, or talk, or breathe overly loudly while this beast’s hoof is so, uh, delicately placed,” he said calmly as he could. He waited a tick to assure himself of silence and finished the job with a flick of his wrist, before lowering the hoof to the ground. 

“There’s a lad,” he murmured, unhooking a dead muskrat from where it hung above Olaf’s head where it had been the perfect dangling distraction, and flipped it onto his clacking beak. “Barn!” He commanded, and the hippogriff trotted obediently into the stable, none the wiser to the wizard who had appeared behind him. 

“Thank goodness he didn’t notice me. That would have been awkward.”

Newt jerked in surprise and turned quickly, blinking. 

“Leta!” 

“I miscalculated my apparition, apparently,”  She favored him with a small smile and smoothed a perfectly curled tendril of dark, shining hair away from her impeccably made up face. 

There was a time when he would have been mortified to be caught by her with his shirt half unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, covered in sweat and dirt, but that time was far past. 

“Leta, I think you may be the only person I know who is literally incapable of miscalculation.” Newt found himself grinning at her in relief. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how he was going to feel after not seeing her for so long. Apparently all that nonsense was safely in the past. Her smile faltered a fraction. 

“You’ve changed,” she said. It was just shy of an accusation.

“You haven’t,” Newt smiled to soften the sentiment. “Lovely as ever,” 

“Leta? Are you down here?” 

“Over here, Theseus!” Newts grin grew as he caught sight of his brother barreling down the sloping path towards them. He winked at Leta and ran to meet him, and they met with a crash,throwing their arms around each other.

“You smell like a barn Newt!” Theseus said, pounding him on the back. 

“Well, you look like something I just mucked out of it,” Newt shoved him away and wrinkled his nose at the dark bruise coloring the ridge of his cheek. 

“Like you should talk.” Theseus poked a finger right at the scar over the bridge of Newts nose. “What happened to you?”

“Errumpet,” Newt answered laconically. “You?”

“One of Grindelwald’s fanatics,” Leta said from behind them. She stepped daintily over to them and took possession of Theseus’s arm. “The bloody woman hit him with a curse when they came to arrest her. It was all over the papers,” she said as if Newt really aught to have known. 

“I’ve been buried, finishing up my book, I’m afraid. You’ll have to tell me about it.” 

“Well, it’s the last spell she’ll throw for some time,” Theseus said with understandable satisfaction, dragging fingers through his curly red hair. Newt smiled as he recognized the familiar gesture. “But then, of the two of us, you’ve been far more involved with Grindelwald than I! Now,  _ that’s  _ a story I’d like to hear told in more detail than was published in the Daily Prophet.”

“Later,” Newt said, glancing at Leta’s brittle expression. “After dinner. Have you seen mother yet? Let’s get you both up there or we’ll never hear the end of it. Supper must be nearly ready.” 

Newt modulated his brisk stride after a few steps to account for Leta’s unhurried progress. He imagined he’d be hobbled in shoes like that, too, and tried to curb his annoyance. 

“Leta, what have you been up to?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“Wedding planning!” she said immediately. “We’re about to send out invitations, and let me tell you,  _ those _ were a nightmare to assemble. We brought yours, in case the owls couldn’t find you, as Theseus has told me is sometimes the case.” 

“I said nothing of the sort.  _ I _ said we should send you a howler, instead,” Theseus winked at Newt over Leta’s head and rolled his eyes as she batted at his arm. 

“You’d need to, so I’d remember. When’s the date?” 

“Two months from today! We have so much to do between now and then,” she said direly. Newt was spared further explanations by his mother throwing open the doors to the house. The hall behind her was brightly lit with candles and she made quite an imposing figure framed by the doorway. 

“Leta! Theseus!” 

“Mrs. Scamander!” Leta rushed forward and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’m so glad I could finally convince your son to visit. We have so much to discuss! About the wedding, of course. There are a great many things to arrange…” Artemis blinked as she was pulled around, and looked helplessly over her shoulder at her oldest son. 

_ “Later,”  _ He mouthed. Newt was sure he did not imagine the brief flare of anger that sparked behind his mother’s eyes. 

“Um,” he began.

“Yes, I rather thought this would happen,” Theseus clasped his hands behind his back and stared at his shoes. “Can your older brother offer you a word of advice?” he grinned impishly at Newt. 

“He can try,” Newt cocked an eyebrow. 

“When it comes time,  _ elope. _ ” 

Newt burst out laughing and smacked Theseus on the shoulder. 

“I’m going to change. If  _ I  _ can offer my older brother a word of advice, go greet your mother properly and save her from that wedding nonsense. I’m sure she doesn’t give two figs about colors or...or. Whatever. You’ll be lucky to get her out of her muck boots and into a nice dress.” 

“Gods, I love her.” Theseus laughed, but in the next breath turned serious. “I meant it, about Grindelwald. MACUSA has been extremely charry with the information they’ve been willing to share about that incident. I can’t tell you how proud I was of you. The papers said you were the one who figured it out,” 

“The papers exaggerate,” Newt said uncomfortably. “I had no idea that I was-”

“Oh, little brother, you were  _ everywhere _ for  _ weeks _ . Thank all the gods you were traveling. It would have made you extremely uncomfortable. For once, I was ‘Newton Scamander’s Older Brother,” rather than the other way around. It drove Leta mad.” He grinned conspiratorially, and Newt couldn’t suppress a quiet chuckle. “Are you sure you wouldn't reconsider being an Auror? I can-”

“I’ll tell you what I can about what happened, Theseus.” Newt lay a hand on his brother’s arm. “But please, understand I’ve made my choice. I’m happy with my life, I love working with beasts, and if  I join the ministry again, it will not be in your department,” he said firmly. For several seconds he couldn’t read his brother’s expression, and began to worry that he’d been offended, and that the entire rest of his stay was going to degenerate into the petty cat- and- mouse- games Theseus had often resorted to in their youth. But then Theseus smiled. 

“Brother mine, you  _ have _ changed.” far from Leta’s accusation, this statement was rife with pride, and Newt grinned. 

“I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise. Theseus,” Newt pulled his brother around by the arm as he made to enter the house. “Is...that is, how...are you..” 

Theseus blinked down at his brother, and clasped his shoulder.

“We are well matched, Newt. Leta and I suit each other down to the ground. She loves being on the arm of a rising ministry star, and I love that she loves that and more. And she knows she can’t...take advantage of me as she did of you. I hope you don't think-”

“No. Gods, no, Theseus. I just. You’re my brother and, though we haven’t always seen eye to eye, I want you to be happy. Doesn’t matter with who. As long as you are, I am.” 

Theseus stared hard at Newt, and to Newt’s surprise, he had no problem holding that gaze. Theseus opened his mouth to say something then paused. 

”Thank you, Newt.” he said softly. “Thank you for that. I was worried. But I’m not anymore.” 

“Worrying just means you suffer twice,” 

Theseus groaned. “You really do take after our mother. Get changed, I’m hungry enough to eat that hippogriff down there.” 

Dinner, when they finally sat down to it, was delicious. Leta picked at her food citing the need to slim down for her wedding dress, but Newt and Theseus more than made up for her reticence and Newt watched his mother glow with happiness. He made a mental note to talk to Theseus about making visits back here a more common practice. He was just about to answer his brother’s question about where he hunted down the Graphorns when the telltale sound of apparition popped in the hallway. 

A tall, thin man, impeccably dressed down to the swinging gold chain of his pocket watch, strode into the room and surveyed the surprised faces of his family. 

“Horace!” Artemis blinked up at her husband. “This is a surprise.” 

“A welcome one, I hope,” His voice was as deep as Newt remembered, and sardonic.

“Yes, of course,” She slid from her chair and they exchanged perfunctory kisses on the cheek. Newt struggled to quell the anger boiling up in him as his father’s gaze slid over him to rest on Theseus, who had risen and stretched out his hand. 

“Son,” Horace smiled as they shook hands and his grin broadened as he took Leta’s hand and kissed it. “Newton,” he paused, and reached out his hand. 

Newt hesitated a moment, remembering the last time they had seen each other, but managed to overcome the anger enough to clasp his father’s hand. He met his mother’s wary expression behind his father’s shoulder, and softened his eyes, trying to tell her that he wouldn't be the cause of any unpleasantness. 

A place setting whizzed into the room and clattered onto the table next to Leta, and a chair folded itself together in front of it. 

“Please, sit,” Artemis murmured. “Newt was just about to tell us about his escapades in Hungary, where he found the last breeding pair of Graphorns.” 

“Ah,” Horace pursed his lips. “I think I’d rather hear about the latest bust of Grindelwald’s cohorts,” he looked expectantly at Theseus. 

Theseus hesitated, flicking an apologetic look at Newt, but Leta jumped in eagerly. 

“Well, it was your son who figured out where they were, Horace. The papers didn’t make mention of that, but it’s true,” she said, leaning toward Horace with a smile. 

Artemis hissed in a breath, but Newt covered her hand and squeezed. After a moment, she squeezed back and they listened as Leta recounted a somewhat embellished version of Theseus’s raid. 

“It’s a great comfort, knowing that the safety and security of the wizarding world is in such capable hands,” Horace said. “You’ve brought credit to the family once again, son. Very well done indeed.”

Theseus looked pleased, and nodded. “We’ve been rounding Grindelwald’s fanatics up in droves here in Britain. Apparently the Americans have been hard at it too, As Newt well knows. I’ve only been catching lackeys.  _ He _ caught the man himself.” 

Horace blinked slowly, then fixed his eyes on his youngest son, and Newt looked down, despite himself. Adrenaline flooded his body in shaky waves. 

“It’s rather far-fetched that you, who never finished formal training, were able to unmask Grindelwald himself.” Horace said slowly, allowing the full weight of his doubts to bleed through into the words

“Far fetched though it may seem, it is true,” Newt answered. He was appalled at the quaver in his voice, furious at himself for allowing anyone to bring him to the point of painful insecurity.  

“And, did you also have a hand in destroying the obscurus? Or was that left to the trained Aurors who accompanied you?”

“The aurors killed the Obscurial,” Newt murmured, staring a the weave of the tablecloth. He found himself compulsively counting the warp and the weft threads. “I would never have harmed an innocent.” 

“ _ Innocent _ ? That’s an interesting word for a being who apparently destroyed several city blocks and killed his own mother and another muggle,” Horace said blandly, arching an eyebrow. 

“He acted under duress, and the woman you refer to as his mother tortured him for years. He's been pardoned.” Newt snapped sharply.   


“So, you feel that muggle deserved to be murdered. That’s quite a change.” Horace raised his eyebrows and took a sip of the wine in front of him. “Could it be that you are finally overcoming all this pacifist nonsense you’ve ascribed to? I’m sure Theseus can find a way for the Aurors to accept you, perhaps even train you up, and you could follow in his footsteps and leave this nonsense with beasts behind you.”

“Horace!” Artemis hissed, incensed. 

“You coddle the boy, Artemis.” Horace drawled, his gaze glancing off his wife dismissively. “He must grow up sometime. Find a real profession, put himself into a position to start a family, like Theseus and Leta, here.” 

“I’m aware of your opinions, father,” Newt said quietly. “There’s no need to repeat them.” 

“To the contrary, I think it bears repeating until the words sink in and take effect, young man.” 

“Father,” Theseus interrupted, saving Newt from having to dredge up an answer from the miasma of rage and misery muffling his thoughts. “Tell us about what’s going on with the Support Staff lately? I heard you were behind a reorganization of the mid ranking officials that report to the Minister?” 

“Oh, indeed. We’ve scrambled the whole lot,” Horace smile was smug. Newt hardly listened to his recounting of ‘trimming the dead wood’ and ‘encouraging efficiencies.” His blood was pounding in his ears as his hands shook in his lap. He couldn’t manage to bring his eyes away from his plate of half-finished food and longed for nothing more than the quiet solitude he’d find in his case, as soon as he could manage to get away. 

_ Newt, _

He stifled a gasp as Leta’s voice echoed in his head. 

_ I’m getting better at it,  _ she said. He glanced up, but she was frowning down at her plate in concentration.  _ Stand up to him. It’s the only way he’ll ever respect you. _

She sighed and her shoulders slumped, and then she looked up with sly smile. Legilimency on that level, and wandless, was extremely difficult, and Newt was impressed. He also found himself wondering what else she’d picked up while she’d been bouncing around in there. At the very least, he was grateful that she’d broken through the swirl of negative emotions and given him something to think about, though he couldn't think of anything more futile than the idea of standing up to his father, he gave her a small smile. 

“We should move into the lounge for drinks,” Artemis said during a break in the conversation. 

“Indeed, though I won’t be joining you,” Horace stood. “I’ve work to attend to. It’s been... pleasant.” Just as he pulled out his wand to apparate away, there was a muffled _boom_ from the direction of the courtyard. 

“What on earth?” Artemis said, but Theseus and Newt were already on their feet, wands drawn. 

“That sounded like  _ Bombara _ ,” Theseus said. He glared around the room. “All of you stay here. Newt, you’re with me.” 

Newt jerked a nod and followed his brother closely as he ran through the house. The sound of another explosion filled the air and Theseus and Newt plastered themselves against the walls to the hall as the front door was blown inward off its hinges. 

Newt peeled away first, his hand twitching from his pocket. The Swooping Evil blossomed forth, zeroing unerringly in on the figure in the doorway, who went down like a stone, wrapped in it’s suffocating embrace. 

“That’s my girl,” Newt murmured as he and Percy flattened themselves on the wall to either side of the door. Perci risked a quick peek outside and jerked his head back as a blaze of green fire streaked past him. 

“Two on the left, I think one on the right.” he muttered. “What on earth is going on?”

“Newton Scamander!” A high pitched, woman’s voice shrieked. Newt blinked in confusion. He’d rather thought this was a reprisal for Theseus’s latest raid. “Come out, or we’ll tear this place apart, stone by stone!” 

Theseus glanced up at Newt with an incredulous look on his face. Newt shrugged and rolled his eyes. They crept away from the door and turned to face it, partially obscured by the dust settling from the explosion that had blown the door off its hinges. 

Newt raised his wand and brought it down smartly against the ground. 

“Araneatela!” he shouted. Lines of green fire raced outwards along the ground and quickly multiplied, covering the entire courtyard in a glowing web. He caught Theseus’s arm as he went to charge through the door and tapped his wand against his feet, one after the other. 

“Ilubrico,” he murmured. A blue glow spread over Theseus’s shoes. Newt repeated the process on himself. “Otherwise you’ll stick as much as they do. Don’t touch the web,” he said, grinning at Theseus’s dumbfounded expression. They made their way outside to find the three attackers flailing against the sticky, dripping spell web. 

“That’s rather brilliant little brother.” Theseus grinned in appreciation. . 

“How do you think I caught the Nundu?” Newt’s answering grin was somewhat feral. “I wasn’t about to get near them, until they knew me.” He wrinkled his nose. “It took forever for them to forgive me for that,” he said. Theseus had already stopped paying attention.

“Expelliarmus!” He commanded, throwing out his hand. Three wands slapped against his palm and he handed them over to Newt, before walking over to the closest captive. 

She twisted in the net, and glared at them. 

“I’m Theseus Scamander, head of the Auror Division.” He pulled his badge of office from the inner pocket of his jacket and waved it in front of her face. Her eyes widened. “I’m arresting you on… oh… a number of charges.” He seemed professionally detached, but Newt knew how angry he was from the set of his shoulders. Looking back at the house, he could see why. The beautiful stone was pitted and ivy hung in charred ropes. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” The woman cried. “He was supposed to be alone with his mother.”

“Who told you that?” Newt asked mildly. Something about the woman looked very familiar. 

“Newt? Your swooping evil is trying to eat this one’s brain,” Leta peeked through the door, clutching her skirts up. Her shoes glowed blue. 

“Oh bugger,” Newt muttered, and made his way back into the house. Leta was watching the Swooping Evil with interest as it licked at its captive’s ear. He bent and stroked her head. 

“Come on, then, leave the brains, lovey. Come on.” Newt coaxed the beast up and she reluctantly unwrapped herself. Her venom had done its job, however, and the man laying in the floor blinked in confusion. 

“Pity,” Newt said. “He’ll be useless for questioning. He won’t remember anything.” 

“Not necessarily,” Leta swept the full skirts of her dress aside and knelt by the man. None too gently, she slapped her hand over his forehead and closed her eyes. “Just because he can’t recall the memories doesn’t mean they’re not in there…” she muttered. The man jerked under her hand and moaned. Newt looked on uncomfortably, unsure whether he should let her continue.  He shrugged. He’d never been able to stop her breaking the rules before. He rather doubted he could now. 

“Oh,” she murmured, and remover her hand. “Grindelwald.  _ He _ sent them somehow, or an intermediary did.” Her face screwed up in concern. “He must be looking for you. Who is Credence?”

Newt’s stomach twisted. 

“No idea,” He murmured, then locked eyes with her. “Don’t,” he snapped, tapping his temple. “Stay out, Leta,” she blinked up at him in astonishment. “Please,” he amended, holding out his hand. She hesitated then took it and rose to her feet, scrutinizing his face as though she could glean from it what she’d been barred from taking directly from his mind. Newt heard his father and mother coming down the hallway. He pointed his wand at the man sitting up on the floor. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” he said firmly, and the man locked up, rigid on the floor. “Theseus? Can I get rid of the web?” He called. 

“Sure, Newt,” Theseus called back. “They’re all petrified. Waiting on backup,” 

Newt nodded and waved held out his hand. “Distrahus,” the web shot through with green fire and burned away, leaving smoking trails in the air. 

“Newt!” His mother ran forward and searched his face, ostensibly for damage. 

“All’s well, mother. There were four of them. Sent by Grindelwald for me, for some reason. They thought I was alone here, with you,” 

“Just as well they found themselves with the head of the Auror Division to deal with,” Horace’s smile was smug and self-satisfied. 

“For pity's sake father.” Theseus strode into the hall and scowled in exasperation. “The web was  _ Newt’s _ . All I did was disarm them and petrify them, which a toddler could have managed. If you don’t want to be held up debriefing my backup squad, why don’t you go attend to that work you were talking about earlier,” 

Horace looked as if he would take umbrage, but at the last moment, met his wife’s implacable glare. 

“Very well,” He said stiffly. He snapped out his wand and vanished with a puff of smoke and a pop. 

“I’d rather deal with ten of them, then one of him,” Artemis growled as she prodded the man on the floor with her toe gently. “I am so glad you all are safe, boys.” 

“Yes,” Theseus caught Newt’s eye. “A word, Newt?” 

Newt nodded and they left Artemis and Leta standing in the hall. 

“Tell me about the Obscurial,” Theseus demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

“What about him?” Newt asked, scrambling a bit. It rubbed him the wrong way to prevaricate, but this was clearly Theseus the Auror, not Theseus his brother, and he would not give Credence up to anyone. 

“Is he alive? Those two out there think he is, and think you know where he is. Do you?” 

“The aurors killed Credence Barebone.” Newt didn’t have to fabricate the rage or the grief associated with that half truth. Theseus stared at him for a moment, then relaxed, fractionally. 

“Good. No-” he grabbed Newt’s arm as he swung away in sudden fury. “Not good that he’s dead. Good that you’re not guilty in smuggling an extremely dangerous magical beast onto British soil, and good that you’re not complicit in hiding him. I couldn’t do anything to help you if that was the case- if you were caught.” 

“He was not a  _ beast _ ,” Newt growled, pulling roughly away from Theseus. “He was a young man. They murdered an innocent young man and all you can think about is your rules and regulations,” 

“Newt, it’s my  _ job _ to care about rules and regulations,” Theseus said helplessly, throwing open his arms. “It’s literally what I do for a living.”

That brought Newt up short, his innate sense of fairness overriding the fury that pulsed through him. He was contemplating taking a job in the ministry as well, which would involve setting in place rules and regulations that protected magical creatures. This was really no different. It was the  _ classification _ of beast and the rules surrounding it that were the problem, not Theseus’s need to enforce those rules. 

“Right,” he nodded, struggling to quell his anger. “Credence  _ was _ killed, Theseus. I’m not lying to you.” Theseus nodded. “Keep in mind, though, that he was posthumously cleared of wrongdoing,” Newt murmured, and a rush of gratitude for Tina’s influence washed through him. “That everyone recognized Grindelwald’s influence in his actions. And that it’s not against the law to- uh- own an obscurus. Necessarily.” 

Newt blanched at the idea of owning another sentient being, but then that was the problem. Credence had to  _ prove _ to the wizarding world that he was sentient and no danger before the classification changed, but he couldn’t make himself known without fear of capture. It was a hard nut to crack. 

“Newt,” Theseus said gently. “I know how much these things bother you. I’m sorry, alright? I truly am.” 

Newt nodded and made himself meet his brother’s eyes. 

“Grindelwald is apparently convinced otherwise, however,” he said. “Porpentina Goldstein, an American auror who has had access to Grindelwald, told me that in a letter. She said he’s convinced the Obscurial survived, and that’s why these people were sent to find me.”

“Grindelwald's delusions multiply,”  Theseus murmured. “And you’re in danger.” 

“I can take care of myself, Theseus.” 

“Don’t I know it, little brother. Don’t I know it.” 

It was good to have that validation. Newt felt the last of his anger dissipate, and was glad of it. He and Theseus had been at odds for too long. He only hoped that his brother would forgive his omission when Credence came out of hiding one day.

There was a series of cracks and pops from the direction of the hallway, and Newt heard his mother’s greetings. 

“There’s the calvary,” Theseus muttered. “Late, as usual.” 

Newt followed his brother out of the study, deep in thought. He listened to his mother answer the questions of the Auror assigned to her, an efficient, polite woman in her early thirties. Artemis danced carefully around her knowledge of a potential obscurus, being careful not to give up any of the information Newt had told her previously, and he thanked the gods for her once more. 

After the Auror had what she needed, Artemis caught his eye and winked before turning away towards the door. She waved her wand and the huge, scarred slab of wood slapped itself back into its home with a slam. The hinges writhed and reformed themselves, the ripped metal coming together, smooth and neat. 

“Now to see what damage they did to the outside,” she muttered. Newt trailed behind her, and caught her up in the darkened courtyard. 

“I can fix the stone tomorrow, when it’s light,” he murmured to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close against him. “But that ivy will take years to grow back. I’m sorry, mother.” 

“Oh, blast the house,” She muttered, leaning against him. “It’s just a building. They were after  _ you _ Newton. Not Theseus.  _ You. _ God knows what they would have done if they’d gotten to you.”

He snuggled her closer, casting around for words of comfort and coming up empty. 

“Thank you for protecting Credence,” he murmured instead. 

“Your brother can be too literally minded in his interpretation of the law,” she said quietly. “A good auror has to mix empathy with policy. Hopefully one day he’ll understand that but until then…”

They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the blasted facade of the house. 

“I need to leave, mother.” Newt said. 

“I know, my son. I know.” Artemis sighed sadly. 

“Mother!” Theseus poked his head around the heavy wooden door and grinned. “The team’s shoved off with the eejits who thought they could nab Newt. I think we were all going to move into the lounge for cocktails anyway. Let’s do that now! I don’t know about you, but I could do serious damage to a martini.” 

“Well, as long as you know how to make them,” Artemis laughed, “Make them for everyone!” All three of them pointedly avoided talking about anything having to do with Grindelwald, or the events of the evening or Horace Scamander, and Newt finally got a chance to tell them about his adventures with the graphorns, and how he’d come to gain their trust. By the end of the evening, Artemis was smiling happily again. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence goes on an adventure and we meet another character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me 9 million years to write and it is soooo long. Thanks for your patience, guys!

Credence came back to himself with an uncharacteristic snap, coalescing all at once rather than by degrees as he was used to. There was another rap at the door and he realized why. 

“Just- just a moment,” he called. Flustered, he cast around for something to wear and his eyes settled in a long robe. It was the same color as the blue wallpaper which is why he’d missed it before. He quickly wrapped it around himself and tied the sash. He reached for the door, but then quickly turned back to his bed and yanked the covers down, quickly mussing the sheets. 

When he opened the door, he was greeted by a blond-haired young woman holding a heavily laden breakfast tray. 

She blinked up at him and arched an eyebrow, her lips lifting fractionally. 

“Good lord, Claire was right!” She smiled. “You  _ are _ a looker. And then some,”  

Credence stared at her for the few seconds it took him to recognize her appreciation and felt his face flush. He stumbled hastily back into the room. 

“I’m--” He thought about his conversation with Camille last night and hesitated to give his name. “Good morning. Can I- help you? With um. With that?” 

The woman followed him into the room, bustling up to the small table by the window and setting the tray down gently enough to avoid spilling any of the food or coffee.. 

“I’m Kate, Credence.” She turned and grinned up at him. “Ms. Macmillan said you’re a friend of hers, which means you aren’t a proper guest, which means  _ we _ can be friends,” She leaned forward peering up at him conspiratorially. “I’m a squib. Been working with Ms. Macmillan for ages now. She’s tops. Told me to look after you this morning since she’s busier than she thought she’d be with the toffs from London.  _ They’re  _ a nasty bunch, for sure. No manners at whatsoever!” 

She smiled nastily and seated herself in one of the two chairs by the table. Mystified, Credence followed suit. “There’s a  _ boy _ with them,” her eyes sparkled as she grabbed a bun off the platter she’d brought for Credence. “He thinks an awful lot of himself. Wait till they see  _ you. _ ” 

“I’m- I don’t know what you mean,” Credence stammered. He instantly liked Kate, the same way he had instantly liked Camille, but he was having a hard time keeping up with the rapid fire stream of information. 

“Surely you-” Kate leaned back and cocked a brow at him, “The ones who don’t know are always the best,” she murmured. “You’re bloody  _ gorgeous _ , you nit! Really, really gorgeous! And if no one’s ever told you that, shame on them!” 

Credence gaped at her. He knew Newt found him attractive, but it never for a moment occurred to him that anyone else ever would. 

“Thank you?” he murmured uncertainly, and pulled his robe closer around him.

“Oh, shite,” Kate muttered, grimacing. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” She waved off Credence’s gesture of denial. “Listen, Camille is tied up with our new guests this morning. She said to tell you that you two would run your errand this evening instead… whatever that means. She also said you’d lost your luggage and that I was supposed to take you shopping and make you spend some of your gold on stuff you need.”

Oh,” Credence thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yes, I do need some things. But I- um. People don’t usually spend gold where I’m from,” 

Kate laughed merrily and nodded, hopping to her feet.” Muggles here don’t, either,” she said. “But Bournemouth is Inverness’s magical market. It’s small, to be sure, but there’s enough there to sort you right out. We’ll get you luggage, and clothes, and all sorts of stuff,” Her eyes gleamed with the prospect of acquisition. “I love shopping,” she said, confirming Credence’s suspicions. He couldn’t help grinning at her as she turned and bustled back out of the room. 

He eyed the food on the table and inhaled the wonderful scents of coffee and cinnamon. The iced buns looked amazing. Once again, his lack of physicals reaction was disconcerting, but, as he seated himself, he told himself firmly that he was lucky he could still taste food, even if he didn't’ actually have an appetite. 

He thought about shopping as he munched on his breakfast. The idea of getting to choose what he wanted was utterly foreign to him. Ma had supplied him with his only possessions and he’d never been given the slightest choice about any of them. The idea of getting to choose what he wanted and actually buy it felt good.

He dressed and hastily brushed his hair until it fell in soft waves over his shoulders. He scrutinized his reflection and tried to see what Newt and Kate seemed to see. 

His features were strange, he decided. Slanted eyes and sharp cheekbones gave him a slightly feral, unnatural look. He was mystified about what specifically could be called attractive about the face in the mirror. Shrugging, he turned away and took up his wand. Fluffy was perched on the window ledge, head cocked over at him expectantly. He grinned at her.

“Feel like coming with?” He asked and held his arm out. She opened her beak in a silent trill and fluttered over to his arm. He sighed and wished again that he could hear her voice. He tapped her back gently with the tip of his wand, having weeks ago moved past the need to speak the transformative spell. “You do make an attractive owl,” he murmured, smiling. Fluffy cocked a dubious eye at him. He walked over to the window and opened the casement. “Follow me till I whistle, ok?” She bobbed her head one and was out the window like a flash. 

Finding Kate was easy. He got the impression that she had been waiting at the foot of the stairs for his appearance. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door at the other end of the long, crowded corridor, smiling smugly at the frankly envious expressions of other workers. 

“Oh, you’ll have to forgive me,” she muttered as they burst through the door into the bright sunlit courtyard. “They make my life hell, so when I can, I tend to swagger a bit. It’s not often you get to feel special about anything when you’re a squib,” She said it lightly, but Credence caught an undercurrent of frustration. Kate urged them to the right, and they walked arm in arm towards the bustling center of town. Credence cast his eyes upwards as a gliding shadow passed them by. 

“Fluffy?” Kate asked. She smiled when Credence nodded. “When I went to Hogwarts, I had a toad. His name was Fortescue.” She wrinkled her nose. “I loved him and his mean little old man face,” 

“What did you learn at Hogwarts?” Credence asked carefully. 

“You mean, what business does a Squib have going to a magical school?” 

“No! I-”

“Oh, Credence, I know. I know you didn’t mean it like that. Anyway, Lots of people asked that question. But there is a professor, Albus Dumbledore. He teaches Transfiguration. Anyway, he was a great champion of us Squibs getting a formal education. Went through a lot of trouble to get us admitted. There were a few of us in different years. I was in Gryffindor. Most of them were in Hufflepuff. Anyway, he got us in. I think he hoped we’d become scholars of history or  potions, or something else that didn’t involve a load of spellcasting. And a few of my fellow Squibs have done just that. One is set to run the library up there. I think Jason is going to work for the Ministry when he graduates. But I’m not clever like that.” she grimaced. “And. Well It wasn’t easy, watching everyone else-- um….” 

Credence didn’t know what to do when he saw the tear  streak down her face, so he ignored it, and tugged her arm closer to his side. 

“When I wanted to leave, Dumbledore was nice about the whole thing. He understood I think. He was actually the one who made recommended contacting Camille to me. Said we’d get along. He was so, so right,” 

“I know how it feels, I think,” Credence murmured. “I-” He wanted to tell her what he was, wanted to tell her his story. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought it would help her feel better. But Camille’s warning rang in his ears, and even though he liked Kate and knew Camille trusted her at least with his identity, he decided against telling her everything. “I didn’t have a magical upbringing,” he settled for a partial truth. “And I was raised away from other people. They would do things- normal things, like this, like going shopping with a friend, and I would watch, you know?” He was shocked at the quaver in his voice and the sudden tightness in his throat. “I’ve never really talked to anyone about it,” He murmured. Kate glanced up at him and stopped in her tracks. 

“Well. We are friends now, yes? So you talk to me all about your shite upbringing and I’ll occasionally bitch about my inability to transfigure annoying bastards into toads, and neither of us will feel poorly about it. And do you mean to tell me you’ve  _ never been shopping?  _ We are going to have so much fun, Credence.”  Her sudden grin was totally infectious and his smile lasted the remainder of their journey into the bustling heart of Inverness. 

Suddenly, Kate pulled him off the high street and down a crowded, narrow alley, and then down another, and another, until he was completely lost. 

“This side of inverness is a bit of a warren,” She muttered as she peered at a street sign. “I’ve been to Bournemouth loads of times and I still can’t remember….Oh. Here we are.” She stopped in front of a blank brick wall. Credence blinked at it. “See that pale brick in the middle there,” She murmured, scooting out of the way as a man with a cart full of lettuce inched past them. “When there’s a pause in traffic here, tap that brick three times with your wand and then lean against the wall. There’s no spell, it’ll just recognize the magic in your wand and let us in,” 

Credence felt his heart sink like a stone, even as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the wand. He was a hundred percent sure it wouldn't work, given that it was not inherently magical.

“Kate, there’s a prob-”

“Now,” she urged, paying more attention to the momentary lack of people in the alley than his half-disguised panic.  

He blinked and tapped on the brick, willing it to work with his whole being, without precisely understanding what working  _ was _ . He leaned against the wall, but instead of solid brick, there was cold, smooth glass under his hand that seemed to shatter silently as he fell through a dark void before staggering onto cobbles not unlike those in the alley. He looked up and instead of a narrow, shadowed alley, he found himself on the edge of a broad plaza. At its center, the huge bronze figure of a rearing centaur dominated the surrounding buildings, a geyser of water trumpeting from his raised horn and splashing down his chest and forelegs and into a wide basin around which several robed figures sat. Next to him, Kate was regaining her feet and looking around her with intense satisfaction. 

“See? Easy as pie, though…” She smoothed her hand over her skirt. “It felt...different that time. Wonder why...” Before Credence could answer, the building next to him sprang to life. Before his eyes, the previously nondescript doorway transformed into a shining archway more in keeping with a cathedral than a storefront. Brilliant bright light dazzled his eyes as it shone forth from the windows, bringing with it the faint sound of trumpets. 

“Divinity chocolates, heavenly treats.” A lovely, musical voice filled the air around them, before the portal darkened and red light pierced through smoke which suddenly roiled through the air. “Temptation calls. Will you answer?” There was a distinct sibilant quality to the voice that Credence found extremely off-putting. 

“Business must be bad if Markus spent that much time on his enchantments this time around,” Kate squinted at the display in delight, and to Credence’s surprise, it was once again an average storefront, with a brightly colored display of confections in the normal window. 

“Do all the buildings do that?” Credence asked. Kate giggled. 

“Sure, if you walk close enough to attract their attention. Gets bloody annoying after awhile,” she grumbled but Credence got the distinct impression that she didn’t mean it. “Right,” she said. First things first. Clothing! What you’ve got’s really nice, but a trifle… well. You look like a bloody muggle, to be honest” She nodded decisively. “If you’ll be spending much time amongst our kind, you’ll need appropriate clothing. 

Credence nodded uncertainly. He remembered his first impression of Graves. It hadn’t been his face or stature that he noticed, but the brilliant white lining flashing on the inside of his coat, and the way his clothing had looked subtly different; more elegant, and flowing. He glanced up to see a man passing by with a similar cloak, an owl riding complacently on his shoulder.  He snapped his head up suddenly, looking around in alarm. 

“Where’s Fluffy?” 

Before Kate could say anything, he raised his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly and sharply. Every head in the square turned their way and Kate groaned softly, ducking her head. Credence didn’t care- he was too relieved to see his friend winging over the nearby roofs, to worry about embarrassment. She backwinged smartly and alighted on his shoulder. He reached up and pet tickled her under her chin and she bobbed her head up and down excitedly. 

“You know, there’s quieter ways to do that,” Kate muttered, pulling on his arm and leading him towards a nearby shop. “Nothing like calling a load of attention to yourself, right out of the gate.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” Credence was relieved that the passersby seemed to have lost all interest in them. 

“Ask Camille when you get a chance,” Kate quickly regained her composure as they approached a nearby storefront. “They’re going to love fitting you,” she said gleefully. “The  _ legs _ on you. Honestly, do you have to be so tall all the time?” Credence couldn’t help laughing, and he pushed the door open in front of Kate. 

Inside, the store stretched back far further than it looked like it should from the outside. Moving mannequins swayed and spun on either side of a long, central aisle, showing off their outfits to best affect. Behind a large counter to his left, a middle aged woman looked up blankly, and then her face brightened,

“Welcome to Hyperion Haberdashery!” She leapt from her chair and bustled over to them. “We will make you to shine like the sun! May I show you the latest line in from Paris mademoiselle?” 

Kate shook her head and wrinkled her nose. 

“Much as I’d love to, we are here for this one. Bloody steamship lost his luggage!”

If possible, the woman’s smile grew wider. 

“My name is Madam Poffery, and I will personally make sure you have all you need. I see from the start that you will need the snag-proof fabric, no?” she held out her wrist to Fluffy who stepped delicately over and allowed herself to be transferred to an ornate perch under which flared a platform shaped like a leaf covered in interesting looking pellets. “You help yourself mon petit fifille!” Madam Poffery cooed. “So! To start with, will you be spending much time around the muggles Monsieur?” 

“Yes, I think so,” Credence murmured. He’d met a frenchman in New York once, who had asked haughtily for directions. This woman was far friendlier, but the accent still irritated him.

“Brilliant! We’ve just the thing!”

Credence’s arm was taken and he was propelled quickly down the aisle towards the back of the store where the bright dresses and women’s cloaks gave way to a slightly more muted selection of men’s clothing. 

“Here we are,” Madam Poffery stopped in front of a mannequin that was just about as tall as Credence. It flaunted a beautiful dark grey frock coat that had subtle silvery vines and leaves  snaking through the fabric. As Credence stared at it, they seemed to undulate and weave as if caught in a breeze. “Entrancing, no? But you have not yet seen the best part! She stroked her hand across the soft wool of the lapel and the vines settled into far more regular patterns. The cut itself altered, straightening out the flare of the waist and shortening the sweeping length. It looked for all the world like a typical tweed suitcoat. “You get the best of both worlds, and no need to duck into a handy loo and change!” She stroked a hand back up the lapel and the finer fabric and longer lines flowed back into existence. 

“You  _ have _ to try that on, Credence.” Credence took one look at Kate and realized immediately how pointless disagreeing would be. 

An hour later, he was dressed head to toe in the finest clothing he’d ever seen, with several boxes wrapped up on the counter. Both Poffery and Kate looked like cats who’d gotten the cream.

“Clothes maketh the man,” Madam Poffery murmured, shaking her head and smiling.

Credence had to admit she had a point. He hardly recognized his reflection in the mirror. He knew that the clothing he had purchased was not at all like what he’d been wearing. He understood that outfits like the grey suit and dark cape would make him stand out at least on some level, even amongst magical folk, and was surprised to find that the idea no longer bothered him, that he was actually looking forward to being noticed for something positive for a change. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” Credence smiled at Madame Poffery and brushed fingers over the soft nap of the fabric again. Grey was definitely his new favorite color. 

He eyed the boxes and was again astounded at the value of the coins Newt had sent with him. The entire purchase had only used up one of the eight, and he could hardly think what else he needed besides luggage to put it all in.

“Madam Poffery, can we leave these here while we sort out the rest of the shopping?” Kate asked brightly. 

“But of course! I will be here until late tonight.”

Kate grasped Credence’s arm and pulled him toward the door. 

“Luggage next! And then to the Boggart. They’ve got loads of things you never knew you needed till you see them,”

Credence followed her out into the bright square and blinked against the sudden sunlight. 

The luggage store was across the wide expanse of the square. As they approached, Fluffy took off and Credence gazed bemusedly after her. 

“She must be bored.” He said absently. “Not that I am!” He added hastily after catching Kate’s narrowed gaze. “Honestly- I’ve never- no one's ever cared the least bit about the way I look except- I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Likely wear out that one suit if yours, I’d wager,” She snipped, but looked mollified. 

“Does this store sell bags that are... I don’t know. Bigger on the inside?” Credence asked. He thought having a portable home would be every bit as convenient for him as it had been for Newt, and there would be a vast savings on lodgings. 

“Oh yes, they all come with standard extension charms. Certainly enough for everything you’ll be carrying.” Kate paused I front of the doorway. “Extending holding spells enough to fit…more than that would be going against the Ministry rules about such things. But if you’re interested…” she leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure and Albert could work something out. He usually has some ‘faulty’ cases that somehow lack standard limiting spells. It’ll cost though.” 

Credence nodded, wondering how much of his horde he’d have to give up. 

As they walked in, Credence took a deep breath, savoring the smell of leather and polish. It was comforting in a way he couldn't place. The interior of the store was beautifully laid out, with all manner of satchels, cases, bags, purses, belts, and other leather goods arrayed in neat rows along the walls.  No one greeted them at the door, but there was a bell on the counter with a sign floating above it that read 

“For service, please ring,” 

“Isn’t he worried someone will steal something?” Credence murmured. Kate favored him with a raised eyebrow and an ironic smile. 

“No. If you steal from Max, or any wizard or witch, the store knows. It  won’t let you out without a proper whomping.” 

“Ah,” Credence said, and reached for the bell. The sound it gave off was beautifully clear and crisp, and seemed to carry far further than it should. 

“Just a moment!” a voice called from the rear of the store. “I’m just finishing up this -- oof!” The words were cut off with a grunt. “Um, sorry, but perhaps you might lend me a hand?” Kate was already rushing down the central aisle when Credence joined her. They rounded the corner at the back of the store to find the proprietor struggling to hold open the lid of a giant trunk that seemed to be attempting to take his arm off at the shoulder. 

“Enchantment gone wrong-” he gasped. Without thinking, Credence reached into his pocket and drew his wand. 

“Petrificus-” 

“No!” gasped the man. “Won’t work, though, good idea. Know any stunning spells?” 

“Stupify!” Credence called, twisting the wand. The chest froze solid and the man collapsed next to it, breathing so heavily that his dense red mustache wobbled as it was sucked towards his mouth. When he stood, he was a massive man, towering over Credence’s long frame. He grinned hugely. 

“Thanks!” he gasped. “Really, really thanks. They said the blasted thing had gone wrong, but I had no idea how wrong! Idiots cast a anti theft spell and then couldn’t get in their own chest! Brought it to me, like I’m some kind of…” he blinked. “I don’t know. Miracle worker. Well. Hazard pay for sure. And ten percent off for you two, whatever you need!” 

“It’s really no bother,” Credence murmured, backing up a step. The spell had drained him, though he was sure he’d cast it correctly. He felt alright, but it was a trifle disconcerting to know that he’d have to replenish himself, even after a spell that was cast correctly. 

“Nonsense! My name’s Albert. What can I do for you?”

“The steamship I came in on lost my luggage,” Credence said quickly. “I’ve got to replace it. It was…” he fished around for a way to bring up the illicit nature of what he was looking for. “It was a really extraordinary piece.” 

“What a shame. What made it so extraordinary?” Albert side-eyed Credence as he picked at his fingernail. 

“It was extremely capacious,” Kate offered, twisting her face up to avoid smiling. “Extremely.”

“I see.” Albert squinted at them for a long minute. “Are you Ministry officials? You have to tell me if I ask!” 

“No!” Credence said vehemently. “I’m from America, so if anything, I’d be Macusa, and I am definitely NOT one of  _ them.”  _

“America! Of course! I should have known right off, from the accent! I love America! I’ve been twice! My niece and nephew live in New York!”

“I’m from Boston,” Credence lies. But I’ve been to New York. There’s really no place like it.” 

“Indeed! When I was there, they were building something they called the Empire State Building. It was only half finished but it was utterly massive! What a marvel. It’s hard to believe muggles can do things like that without magic.” 

Credence nodded. He wondered how magical folk went about building things. Just floating rocks and bricks together? Somehow it seemed like cheating. 

“Anyhow! I think, no, I’m sure. I have exactly what you need.” He squinted at Kate delightedly. “Capacious, she says. Well. Capacious I’ve got. It’s back here.” 

The store wares got  increasingly more chaotic the further back they went. Old leather bags and totes hung from pegs on the walls, there was a lot of scrap hanging around. They made their way through the jungle of straps and buckles and came out in a somewhat tidier workshop. 

“There she is,” Albert gestured at a small, extremely sturdy looking rectangular valise, propped upright on the floor. It was alligator hide, and was bound with straps of supple leather and dull brass studs. Two buckled straps added extra security to the formidable looking front latch. 

“That looks perfect,” Credence said, delighted. 

“Wait till you see inside!” Albert laid the case on its side and made quick work of the straps. He opened the case and stepped inside, sinking almost immediately to his waist. “Watch out,” he warned. “First step’s a doozy.” 

Credence blinked at Kate and followed Albert down a steep set of ladder stairs, just like Newts. What greeted him at the bottom, however, was nothing like Newt's Cluttered workshop. 

The vast octagonal room of ornate, gothic stonework lined with bookshelves and tall, vaulted windows was covered in dust, and smelled disused in a way that only incredibly old buildings could. 

“Wow,” Kate murmured. She made her way over to the window, but all outside was black. 

“Apparently the gentleman who owned this didn’t have much of a taste for landscaping, so all that out there is just empty. But I’ve been assured that it’s rather vast, and it can be extended, if you’ve got the know-how.”  

“How much is it?” Credence asked, breathlessly. He could be happy, living here, and he was already planning out the grounds in his mind. 

“Three Gold,” Albert said promptly. 

“Three Gold!” Kate spun around from the darkened window. “What’s wrong with it? This is worth ten times that.” 

Credence sighed. He didn’t have anything like thirty pieces of gold.  

“Nothing’s wrong with it.” Albert said vehemently. “You all have done me a great favor and-” 

“Albert.” Kate glared at him. “What’s. Wrong. With it?” 

Albert looked uncomfortable, and shifted on his feet. 

“Well, the thing is. The thing is it used to belong to- Well.” He looked at Credence. “I guess he’s in New York, now. At the hands of your friends, the Macusa.” 

Credence cast a puzzled look at Kate, who was beginning to look alarmed. 

“Don’t tell me you mean-” she started.

“Gellert Grindelwald.” Albert looked embarrassed.

“No,” Kate said, grasping his arm. “Absolutely not. Who knows...Just no. Surely you have something else.” 

“Hang on,” Credence said, pulling her back from the stairs. Albert cast him a hopeful look. He wanted to ask who Gellert Grindelwald was, but it was obvious that it was something he should know and it would look odd that he didn’t. 

“How did you get the case?” Credence asked suspiciously. 

“Well, you must have heard, young man, he left his home in Scotland rather quickly last year. The case came to me through a few friends who helped- uh-” 

“Make sure his possessions had good homes?” Kate sniped. 

“Yes, exactly.” Albert nodded, missing her trenchant sarcasm, or ignoring it on purpose. 

“So it was stolen?” Credence frowned. 

“No! All of his possessions and holdings were stripped when he- well. You know. Lacking next of kin, the lot went up for auction. And, laddie, even if it hadn’t, surely when you steal from a thief, your righting a wrong!” 

“Is there anything else wrong with it?” Credence asked, looking around. He doubted very much he’d be able to get anything like this for as three gold pieces, and the idea of having a safe place to stay at night as he traveled was extremely compelling. 

“I’ve not been out there,” Albert gestured to the door leading out to the infinite blackness beyond the windows. “But I did a lot of checking. All seems well to me. I’m selling it as is, and the price is amazing, you must admit. 

“Credence,” Kate’s tone was a warning in and of itself. Credence shook his head and pulled the purse from his pocket. 

“I’ll take it,” he pulled out three gold pieces and handed them to Albert, who looked relieved. 

“That's two favors you’ve done me today, laddie. I thought I’d never unload this piece. Look, I’ll throw in a travel pouch- finest graphorn leather, just for you. What do you say to that? Come on, lets go,” 

Albert led the way up the staircase and Credence followed Kate, who cast one last troubled glance at the stone room before clutching her skirts up and climbing out of the case. 

Credence closed the case behind them, and the straps snaked themselves through the buckles and closed themselves over the opening. 

“Is there any way that you can keep it from doing that?” Credence asked. “I spend a reasonable amount of time around Muggles, and that’s bound to grab attention.” 

“Surely! I can set a Muggleworthy charm on it for you for half a gold.” Albert whipped out his wand. 

“How about that instead of the pouch?” Credence asked. “I prefer graphorn hide on the actual animal.” 

“Ach laddie, you’re a funny one. How’d you know? They’re all gone!” Albert smiled and shook his head, then pulled out a long, gnarled wand, and bent over the case.

“Obscuromagicum!” he rapped the case smartly with the tip of his wand, and it jerked left, then right, before settling. “Look, there’s the toggle,” Credence peered over Albert’s shoulder and noticed an additional, bright brass catch just next to the locking mechanism. It said “Muggle-Worthy” on it. “Just press it down like this, and inside and out, it’ll look like normal luggage.” 

“Wonder why Grindelwald didn’t do that himself,” Credence murmured. Albert looked at him ascance. 

“Well, it’s not as if he was all that concerned about hiding from muggles, now, was it!” He said, a hint of outrage lacing his words. “Bloodyminded bastard,” he muttered. 

They left the store with well wishes, and Credence hefted the case in his hand. The leather handle fit right into his palm and it felt right. 

“Credence, do you know who Grindelwald is?” Kate muttered as they made their way back across the square. 

“No, but it’s just a case, right? It’s not bad just because of who owned it.” Credence pointed at a leaning, rickety looking building whose windows were filled with books. “Salazar’s Second Hand Books! Let’s go there,” he pulled eagerly at her arm and after a moment, she smiled. Credence was relieved. He didn’t want to have an argument with his first friend on their first day. As soon as he opened the door, he was instantly as happy as he could remember. 

“Look at all of them,” he said, gesturing to the stacks and stacks of books crowding every square inch of floor space. Huge shelves angled upwards towards the roof and every conceivable surface was covered in parchment, or books. “This is  _ wonderful. _ ”

“Can I direct to you to a subject of particular interest?” The thin, reedy voice matched up perfectly with the small, old man in slightly tattered looking robes who appeared as if by magic from behind a stack of books. 

“Magical Theory,” Credence said promptly. 

“Ah! Well, you’ll be pleased, young sir, you’ll be pleased. We have an entire wall devoted to just that-” 

“Credence?” Credence popped his head up from the massive tome in his hands and blinked at Kate. “We’ve um. We’ve been here for over an hour,” Kate said with a grin. “And much as I like to see you happy, we’ve got other things to get to as well. You’ll need some uh. Furniture. And things. 

“Sorry!” Credence shut the book with a thump and put it on the enormous stack he’d accumulated. “We can go, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing, you nit! You have enough material for ages anyway. And you can always come back. This place won’t be going anywhere.” 

“Right.” Credence picked up a stack of books and made his way to the counter. 

“Let me get those for you, laddie,” the wizened old man waved is wand absently towards the rest of what Credence had accumulated, and the books wafted towards them, fluttering through the air like strange birds. “My goodness. You’re out for an education, aren’t you.” The man cast an approving eye over the range of subjects. “Wand Lore, and The Theory of Space and Volume,” He squinted at Credence. “Can I recommend an addition? Since you seem to have such broad interests. It’s pre-order only I’m afraid, but it’ll come by Owl when it’s out. Just got the ads from from the publisher today,” He turned and fished around his desk, pushing pieces of paper around seemly at random. “Where did I...Ah yes. Here. Here it is,” He held up a flyer. It looked like  a book cover, with a gilt-embellished gryphon snapping its beak and flexing its claws around the title. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.” 

“Yes!” Credence snatched the flyer from the man’s hands, and stared at it with wide eyes. “Definitely. Just. Certainly. Send it to-” 

“Oh, my owl will find you, laddie. He’s good like that. Wonderful. I thought you’d be interested.”

“Can I keep this?” Credence asked, suddenly shy. He didn’t want to give the slip of paper back. It felt like a connection, like tie back to Newt. 

“Of course. They dropped off several.” the man finished tallying up the books. “That’ll be half a gold piece, laddie.” 

Credence glanced at the huge stack in surprise. 

“That’s all?” 

“Hard to sell old books. No one reads anymore,” The old man nodded disconsolately. 

Credence handed over the money and opened his chest. The man waved his wand and the books funneled smoothly through the opening. Credence could hear them land with a thunk on the stone floor of the room below. He was already looking forward to arranging them on the shelves. He never thought he’d own anything like a library and was thrilled to have a good start on it. And Newt’s book! He’d have to buy a table to put it on. At some point. As he shut the lid, he looked up and saw a stack of stationary and a quill in a battered lap desk. 

“Can I add that to my order please?” he asked politely, picking up the set. His first letter would be a thank you letter. 

“A writer too- will wonders never cease…” the old man wrapped up the writing set and it went into the case as well. 

“Thank you,” Credence hefted the case and was surprised that it weighed no more than it had. “I will be back, I’m sure,” 

Kate took him a around to a few other shops and he absently bought things she thought he needed, but his mind was on his books and the letter he wanted to write, and increasingly, wondering about how he would fulfill his favor to Camille. He wished one of the books he’d bought covered swimming.  

“Credence?” 

“What? Sorry, what was that?” He snapped back to himself and met Kate’s bemused expression. 

“We should be going back. Camille has probably got the London bastards all sorted by now, and she mentioned some type of errand you had to run with her.”

“Yes,” Credence caught himself before he gave the nature of that errand away. If Camille had wanted to share her concern she would have told Kate herself. 

“Before we do though…” Kate paused under a hanging sign that featured two mugs clinking against each other repeatedly. “I think a few butterbeers are in order and a bit of a nosh. I can’t imagine why you aren’t dying from hunger. I am.”

“Of course! I’m sorry.” Credence berated himself for not thinking to affect hunger earlier when it would have been appropriate. He was really going to have to get better at paying attention. 

“Nothing that can’t be mended. This place has the best Scotch eggs around. Ever had one? You’re in for a treat!” 

The pub was long and narrow, with dark wood paneling lining the walls and tin ceiling  panels that seemed to change pattern of you looked at them too long. Kate seemed to know the friendly looking man behind the bar and soon she and Credence were seated near The windows at a table just big enough for the two of them. 

Credence followed the progress of a woman and child as they crossed the square. The child was holding onto the end of a string attached to a kite shaped like a dragonfly. The kites wings seemed to move independently as it flew around the little boys head, much to his delight. 

“You really did grow up apart,” Kate murmured after a while. “I take it that young Credence never had a toy like that.” 

“Nor any others, really,” Credence blinked at Kate and smiled. “Got way better things than kites now, though, thanks to you.” 

Kate wrinkled her nose at him and laughed. Credence glanced past her at a flyer stuck against the window, his eye caught by the garish colors and crazy patterns of the motley worn by the acrobats twirling around on its surface. . 

“What’s this?” He asked, prising it from where it was wedged between the mullions  of the window. 

“Oh! It’s a flyer for the Circus Arcanus,” Kate plucked it out of his grasp and squinted at it. “They came through here weeks ago. Stopped for a whole week! It was wonderful. They’re amazing. Lots of acrobats and magicians and fortune tellers who are actually really good at divination. Look here!” She pointed at the image of a woman standing to the side of the tent in the illustration. “A real maledictus. Poor thing, she’s cursed. She has to turn into a snake whenever the right words are spoken, and can’t return to her human form until she’s released. One day she will never return. And even if someone doesn’t say the words, she’s doomed. Scales are already starting to cover her body.” 

Credence stared at Kate, struggling to quell his disgust at her obvious prurient interest.

“That’s horrible,” he murmured. “Did they make her show them?” 

“Sure did. The ringleader made a big deal out of it. She was a really good dancer- strange dancing from the east I guess. Anyway, her clothes seemed to melt off wherever there were scales.” Kate paused, picking up on Credence’s growing discomfort. “She’s probably better off with them, Credence. They’ll protect her from people who would really take advantage of her curse.”

Credence frowned. To his mind, anyone who made a woman dance to show off her deformity was not operating in her best interest. 

“Maledicti are not… they’re not generally treated well,” Kate explained. “In the wizarding world, they’re seen as more dangerous than anything. At least in the circus, she’s safe with other...misfits.” She paused and blinked at him. “I’ve made you angry.” she bit her lip. 

“Not at you, so much. Just… people shouldn’t be... punished for things like this. Things that are out of their control. I-“ he broke off as the bartender made his way over, rubbing his thumb absently over the scars on his palm. 

“Here you are. The man plunked his tray onto the table and caught a glass as it threatened to tip over. “Two butterbeers and scotch eggs. Mind them, though. They’ll be scalding!” He said and bustled back off again to the bar. 

Kate took a long sip of her butterbeer, regarding Credence over the rim of her mug. He sniffed at his own before takes a swig. 

“That is amazing,” he lowered the mug and stared at its contents. 

“So what would you do about it?” Kate lowered her own mug. 

“Do about what?” 

“Well, it’s all very well and good to moan about the state of the world. But what would you actually do? To help? You know, if you could.” 

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. People are horrible- you can’t do anything about that,” he said gloomily. Kate snorted and nodded. Credence thought about Newt. “If there was a place- to go. For…” he stopped shy of saying ‘people like me’, but only barely. “Misfits- like you call them. Freaks.” The word was bitter in his mouth. “Somewhere safe. So they didn’t have to join the circus or run…” 

“That'd be grand, for sure. But where? Who’d pay? And how long should people have to live outside the world, away from others?”

Credence shook his head. “Don’t know. But- in my experience the only people who don’t want freaks like me around more than the freaks don’t want to be around are the people who call them freaks in the first place. Probably some of them would help pay—“

“You’re  _ not _ a freak, Credence, whatever you are. Eggs are cool. Eat one!” Kate demanded. Credence huffed and smiled and shoved a forkful of steaming sausage into his mouth. He groaned in pleasure. 

“God, these are good,” 

“Gods?” 

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Enjoy your eggs.” 

Credence didn’t need to told twice and in minutes the plates were clean and Kate looked as satisfied as he felt.

“Maybe I can learn to cook,” Credence said thoughtfully, hunting down the last crumbs of sausage. 

“You can start after you help Camille with whatever. It’s gone one o’clock! Let’s go!”

Credence paid at the bar on their way out and blinked as they stepped into the sunlight. The water shooting out  of the centaur fountain caught the sun and seemed to crystallize onto shining drops of ice as it fell from the uplifted horn. 

“Someone enchanted it to do that.” Kate said wistfully, watching the shards of crystal shatter back into water as they hit the fountain’s pool. “Just walked by and decided they’d like to see crystal water and did it. I’d have made it lavender scented, personally,” she sniffed. 

Credence stared at her for a moment then set his case down on the ground and drew his wand.

“Let me try something,” he said and reached for her, hesitating at the last second. “Can I put my hand on your shoulder?” 

“Of course, but I-“ 

“Just, close your eyes and think of lavender, or whatever. Try to smell it. Imagine it as hard as you can.” Credence murmured as he placed his hand gently on Kate’s shoulder. 

“Oh, it won’t work-“ Kate said, slumping under his touch as she cottoned in. “My mum tried this trick a lot when I was young...she wanted it to work so badly. 

Credence praused. “We don’t have to, but I’m- different. It might-“ 

“Oh fine,” Kate ducked her head away. “If it’ll please you. Just don't be disappointed when it doesn’t work.”

“Lavender, Kate. Focus.” Credence watched her face crumple into a frown of concentration then blinked. Abruptly the world around him jolted into shadow. He saw the crystalline water as shards of dark glass splashing onto an obsidian pool. The sky was grey, and Fluffy glowed dully against the outline of a roof. All around him, strands of magic floated through the air, wafting in curtains and nets of power between the buildings. He spent a moment staring around in awe at the buildings, which seemed to pulse with their own inner light of concentrated anti theft spells. It seemed to Credence that they were almost aware of him-hovering on the cusp of sentience. 

Beside him, Kate shone brightly. He could sense her breath, even her heartbeat in the ebb and flow of the glow. 

“Alright,” His murmur manifested as a red ribbon of sound curling around his body and Kate’s. Somewhere in the depths of her, a purplish glow struggled to grow as she composed her mind to try casting a spell. It was a small, feeble, wisp of a thing- so different from the bonfire of power that blazed within Newt, or the firm flame that flickered in Fluffy, but it was there, twisting and writhing next to her heart, struggling, against what, he didn’t know, to grow. 

“Aquamorpheous,” he said firmly, and pointed his wand at the fountain, but sent the power of the spell through Kate. He saw the purple light flare, and was suddenly aware of the intense smell of lavender. 

“What did you  _ do?”  _

Credence snapped his eyes shut and when he opened them, he had to blink against the bright sunlight. The fountain was still spraying crystal water but it was definitely tinged purple, and the smell of lavender permeated the air around them. He risked a glance at Kate, and jerked away from her fierce scowl.

“I just- I formed the spell, but you cast it. I felt-“

“Niffler shit!” To his horror, tears began to stream from Kate’s furious eyes. “I  _ can’t.  _ My whole life, I couldn’t, and now you- you think you can just- don’t touch me!” She cried as he reached for her hand, at a loss for what else to do. He jerked back again, 

“I’m sorry, please-“

Kate shook her head sharply, scrubbing the tears away with the back of her hand. 

“I don’t know what you did.” She snarled. “I’m taking you back to Camille. Don’t-“ she held her hand up to forestall his words. “Call that ruddy bird of yours down. Sooner we get back the better.”

Credence stared at her, and the pained feeling that had settled on his chest twisted into frustration.

“No,” he said, his voice shaking. “You said we could try. You can’t- I haven’t done anything wrong!” 

“You tricked me somehow!” Kate hissed. “you  _ tricked  _ me into-“

“No! I didn’t! All I did was power the spell! You cast it! Why would I lie to you?” Frustration was rapidly transforming itself into something far uglier- just about ugly enough to make him bat Fluffy away as she landed on his shoulder. 

“There is no way-“ Kate began,

“Yes, there is. I could  _ see _ it, Kate. I could see your magic trying to-“

“ _ How?”  _

Credence sighed and glanced around, disturbed that they were garnering an audience. 

“Can we just-“

“Fine.” Kate grabbed his arm. “Appearate.” She ordered. “To your room.”

““I don’t know how,” Credence snapped. “Besides, I have to pick up my stuff from Poffery. Go, if you want. I’ll find my way back on my own.”

“I can’t.” Abruptly, all the anger seemed to drain out of Kate and she stared wet-eyed at the ground. “I can’t get the enchantment to open the wall to work, because...” She gulped, and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. 

Credence stared at her for a moment, then hefted his suitcase and tentatively slipped his arm around her shoulders. To his relief, she leaned against him and sniffed. With glare at the bystanders who were watching them curiously, he lead her towards Poffery’s shop. 

“I’m sorry, Kate,” he muttered. “I only meant to help. I swear, I didn’t trick you.”

Kate dug around in her sleeve and pulled out a silk handkerchief that looked far too large to have been stuck up here. She blotted at her eyes and scowled at the damp marks. 

“Go ahead in and pick up your boxes,” she said, “I’ll wait right here.” Credence hesitated, unwilling to leave her alone. “Really,” she glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes and struggled for a smile. “I just...need a moment.“ 

Credence nodded and slid away from her. Fluffy shifted in his shoulder and rubbed her head against his ear. 

“Why don’t you wait with Kate,” Credence murmured. Without hesitation Fluffy launched off his shoulder. He smiled to himself as he heard Kate’s surprised exclamation. 

Madam Poffery greeted him enthusiastically and helped him lower the pile of boxes into his case, all while insisting that he return soon and allow her to help him with anything he required. 

He answered politely, but his attention was really focused on Kate, who he watched alternatively wiping her eyes and running the backs of her fingers over Fluffy’s breast feathers. 

He realized he had no clue about how to make things right again. 

“If you want my advice, ask her what she wants.” Credence blinked down at madame Poffery in surprise. 

“I didn’t realize I was thinking out loud-“

“You were not, my dear, but I recognize well the look. For us ladies, it is rare to be asked what we want. Everyone assumes they know Best. You want to fix this little fight? This misunderstanding? Find out what she wants.” 

Credence realized to his chagrin that he hadn’t actually taken Kate’s wishes into consideration. He’d just assumed that if she could do magic, she should. 

“I’m an idiot,” he breathed. 

“Most men are,” Poffery grinned up at him. “At least you are willing to mend things.”

“Thanks- for the help and the advice.” Credence made his way quickly to the door. 

“Au revoir!” 

“Kate!” Credence rushed up to her. “I’m sorry, I am.”

“No- don’t apologize. I just-“

“Please, hear me out. For me, that was- nothing. It was an experiment. I was curious. But for you- it’s your whole life. I’m sorry I didn’t- I don’t know. I’m just sorry I didn’t consider what would happen if it worked.”

Kate considered him for several moments, and he was extremely worried she’d start to weep again. Instead, she nodded slowly. 

“Thank you.” She murmured. “I just don’t understand...exactly what happened. I felt it work- the little tug they talk about. I  _ felt  _ it and I don’t know why. Or how. And when I get confused, I get angry and- Well. I’m sorry I shouted.” 

“It’s ok, really it is. Let’s get going, and- I’ll tell you what I can while we walk. And maybe we can find out what's going on together,” he paused. “Only if you want to. Personally, I think you’re brilliant either way.” Credence shifted his case to his other hand and offered Kate his arm. She stared at him for a moment, then grinned and took it. 

Credence took them out of Bournemouth and, as they wandered through the warren of streets in Inverness, he told Kate what he’d seen in her and that he thought it meant that, rather than not having any magical ability, hers was being blocked somehow. 

“What I don’t understand is how you can know any of this,” she said as they turned onto the road to the Lodge. “You said you saw it, but...how?”

Credence stopped walking, and stared at the ground. After a step or two Kate stopped as well. “You- you don’t need  to tell me,” she said after a moment. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, just-“

“No, I want to tell you. But I’m afraid that if I do you won’t- that we won’t be friends anymore. And- it’s a secret.”

Kate laid her hand in his arm and met his gaze squarely.

“I promise I’ll try to understand  anything you tell me and not judge you. You haven’t judged me.” 

“Do you know what an obscurus is?” Credence asked, before he could stop himself.

“Yes, But- oh! Oh, Merlin’s beard! You’re the obscurial from the papers! The one who wrecked New York!” 

Credence tried to reconcile the words coming out of her mouth with the fact that she obviously found the fact more exciting than terrifying or revolting. 

“Do- I mean do you-“ 

“Oh gods,” Kate’s eyes widened in dismay and Credence braced himself for the worst as of expecting a physical blow. “You must have been through  _ hell _ , to be an obscurus. Merlin’s beard.” 

“It...wasn’t great. But it’s over now.” 

Kate stared into his face a moment, then nodded firmly. 

“Thank the gods for that. But it doesn’t explain why you can see magic.” 

“I’m not sure- I just…can. If I try. Before, I could only do it when I was diffuse, but I’ve been practicing.” 

“That’s fascinating. And you- you’re sure? About me?” Kate couldn’t hide the intensity in her voice.

“Positive,” Credence said. “I saw your magic. It was like a little flame, right here.” He pointed at her chest, juggling his case. “It- seemed to want to grow. But something-“ He paused, at a lack of words.

“I could feel it…” Kate murmured, and they walked in silence for some time. 

“I know someone, who has equipment that may help you to…well at least to prove to yourself that the power is there,”Credence said. 

“Why would they help me?” Kate asked curiously. 

“Because you’re uncommon,” Credence said. “She’s a researcher. As long as she can learn about what makes you tick, and it’s interesting, she will help.” He didn’t mention the fact that Norah was apt to grow fond of her subjects. Kate would find out for herself.

“Maybe after these eejits from London leave, I’ll ask Ms. Macmillan for some time off.” Kate paused, and grinned. “After all, it’s for a good cause. It’s be far better to have a magical maid than a squib.”

The lodge came into view as they turned the corner of the broad road. The sun was slanting through the trees around the curving courtyard, sending beams of light over the neatly thatched roof and sparkles off the waters of the Loch, barely visible through the trees. 

“Home,” Kate breathed. 

“Kate! Credence!” Camille strode out of the front door, smiling. “Welcome back. Honestly, these...people are treading on my last nerve. If you hadn’t come back to relieve me, I’m not sure what I’d do to them.” She hissed as she got closer. “Get everything you need, Credence?”

“And then some.” He nodded and hefted his case. She looked at it sharply for a moment then smiled. 

“I’m sorry we took so long,” Kate began, but Camille shushed her. 

“Nonsense, I’m pleased you got a break. Calm before the storm.”

“Just as well I’m back, then,” Kate’s smile was chipper as she accepted the apron Camille handed to her. “Guest hijinks don’t bother me nearly as much as they do you,”

“Oh, you say that now. Talk to me this evening. Credence, go stow your things and meet me down by the dock in the garden in a few minutes, there’s a lad.

Credence followed the ladies in as they bustled through the door and made his way upstairs. 

On the table, he was both shocked and thrilled to see a plate full of the same type of pellets that madam Poffery had had in her shop. Fluffy flitted over and perched on the side of the table and began to wolf them down. 

“I should have thought to find you something earlier,” Credence murmured in remorse. He’d grown used to her self sufficiency while they trekked through the highlands, but rodents were thankfully not as common at Camille’s Lodge. 

He reached past her and opened the window to the brisk afternoon breeze that blew on from the Loch. “I’ll be gone a bit,” he stroked her back. She glanced up from her food. “I’ll be in there,” he pointed to the lake, hoping she’d understand. “You won’t be able to follow me,” 

Fluffy blinked at him, and he was sure if she could shrug, she would. It was incredible how well he could read her moods. He smiled and turned to his case and opened it. 

The stone room smelled as musty as it had before, and absently,Credence wondered if the scourgify spell would freshen the air as well as remove the dust. He decided against trying it, preferring to save his energy for the coming task. 

Locating the bathing suit in his welter of boxes didn’t take long, and he quickly changed into it. Poffery had tried to convince him to buy the trunks which she insisted were all the rage in Paris, but he had opted for the kind that pulled up over his shoulders. He could do nothing about the back, though, and, craning his head around, he realized that the larger scars were plainly visible, framed by the stretchy, dark material. He grimaced, bit there was no getting around it- they reappeared on his skin when he Emerged and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. He’d just try to keep Camille from seeing them, if he could. 

Next, he pulled on the high-waisted, loose fitting cotton trousers and shirt that Pomfrey had assured him were totally suitable for a sailing adventure in the Loch. He rolled the sleeves up to just below his elbows and tied his hair back from his face.

He turned towards the ladder but, just as he was about to climb out, the stationary set he’s purchased cause his eye. 

He plucked up the box and took it with him, plopping it down in the blue desk in his room. He quickly took out a sheet of bone-colored paper and began to write. 

“ _ Dear Newt,  _

_ I’m sorry I haven’t written to you. Until now, I didn’t have the means. I don’t have much time- your friend Camille, I found her by the way, and she’s wonderful! Anyway, she needs help tracking down her friend Nessie- well I say friend but Nessie is a beast, not a person. She lives at the bottom of the Loch Ness and Camille is worried because she hasn’t seen her in a while. So I’m going to look for her and I’m a little nervous but I don’t have to breathe, apparently, which makes it easier for me than someone else but it’s strange because, well, I don’t have to breathe. Apparently.  _

Credence looked down at his rambling scrawl and thought about balling it up and starting over again, but he caught sight of Camille silhouetted against the bright sparkle of the water and pushed on instead, not wanting to keep her waiting. There were more important things he needed to say. 

_ I want to thank you for everything, but especially the wand. It would be a beautiful gift no matter what, but Newt, it actually  _ works!  _ I don’t know how you did it, but I never should have doubted that you could or would. You are a great wizard and a better friend and I miss you every day, I do, but I can’t come back yet please don’t be angry.  _

_ I am helping people here. Camille, and Kate- I’ll tell you about that later- and maybe Nessie. I’m doing some things that I can only do because of what I am and- it’s good. It’s helping me too. _

_ But I miss you. And I… I will write again soon.  _

_ Yours, always,  _

_ Credence Barebone _

Credence agonized for a moment, wondering if he sounded too needy or pathetic, but he resolutely folded up the paper and slipped it into an envelope. Nothing he had said was untrue and, though it was hard to write, Newt deserved the information. At the very least. 

He brought the letter over to Fluffy who looked at it curiously. 

“Can you take this to Newt, ducks?” He murmured, stroking Fluffy’s fuzzy crest. She all but snatched the letter out of his hands, fluffing her feathers with pleasure. “Of course you can. I only wish I was going with you.” Fluffy butter her head into the palm of his hand and then flew through the window and arrived to the north. He watched Camille watch her and waved back when she waved to him, before stuffing his wand into his trouser pocket and bolting through his door and down the stairs. 

“Wanted to get a quick note off to Newt, eh?” She winked at him and he felt his face heat up. 

“Yes. Sorry to-“

“Ach, shut it. It’s good. It’ll give him some peace of mind at least. I’m sure you would have written him a book if I wasn’t dragging you away. Thanks for hurrying, though. That lot hasn’t noticed  I’m gone yet and I’d like to make good my escape before they figure it out.”

Credence followed her around the edge of the garden and through a copse of trees to a beautiful red shed that was built out over the water. 

“Ah, here we are.” Camille said. “Now, we could do this he hard way,” she glanced at him, her blue eyes sparkling. “Or you can keep a weather eye out for wandering muggles, and I can get us started quickly.” 

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Credence assured her and turned his face to the house as Camille pulled her wand out of the pocket of the trousers she’d changed into. 

Behind him he heard boards creaking and water lapping and was sorely tempted to watch how exactly a boat was launched, but instead he scanned the broad yard and tree line, ready to warn her of any approaching guests. 

“Alright!” Camille cried gaily. “Up you get.” Credence turned and was caught totally off guard by the lovely craft behind him. Camille was manually unfurling the mainsail of a compact, sloop-rigged sailboat. It billowed out, clean and white, over the dark stained wood of the hull and the lighter teak deck. The boat was easily big enough for four people to sit around the tiller and clearly had below-decks storage, but something about the shape of the craft suggested that it was primarily designed for speed. 

“Come on then,” Camille waved him towards the gunwal. “Just untie the painter there in your way up and we’ll be off.” Credence stooped to unwind a line of rope from a grommet screwed to the deck and stepped as lightly as he could into the craft. It bobbed, but seemed surprisingly stable. 

“Now, pitch up over there and turn that crank until I tell you to stop,” Camille ordered good naturedly and Credence  jumped to obey. To his amazement, turning the crank unfurled the foresale which immediately caught the wind whipping across the open water. The boat heeled over and he reached out for the mast to steady himself, glad that he’d thought to tie back his hair. 

Camille laughed out loud and he looked back at her, smiling at her utter delight. 

“Wait till we get out of the little bay here!” She called. “When we reach open water we’ll  _ really  _ get going! Come on back and sit here,” 

Credence felt a thrill of excitement as he took a seat at Camille’s right, on the side of the boat that was tilted up further out of the water. 

“Now, this bit takes some getting used to,” she called out over the gusting wind. “But don’t worry!” 

She leaned against the tiller and the boat angled itself so that the wind snapped the sails taught. It heaved and heeled sharply over until it seemed to be almost sideways in the water. 

The sudden acceleration took Credence’s breath away. After he realized that they were not, in fact, about to capsize, he relaxed and grinned, squinting his eyes against the bite of the wind to watch the land slide away from them on their left. 

“Alright?” Camille shouted. 

“Yes!” Credence answered. And really, he could hardly imagine being more alright. The only thing that could make flying over the water more perfect was if Newt could be there to see it. 

As they sped onward, the light of the sun seemed to Credence as though it seeped into his skin. The fresh breath of the wind washed over his face and he felt the same bottomless calm he had felt when he and Newt had walked under the ancient trees in the valley below Norah’s house. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the gunwale, letting his body relax into the rhythmic heave and yaw of the boat. He could sense the water as it slid beneath the boat, seemed to be able to feel its slippery coolness as though it curled over his skin. 

Curious, he reached out with all his senses, feeling into the depths of the Loch, not seeking, but probing. A multitude of life teemed below the surface. Fish and waterfowl were bright sparks, glimmering in the vast darkness. Below was a space that was empty of life, and below that, clusters of light where creatures congregated. 

He couldn’t tell what they were, but the more he focused, the more he realized just how massive the cluster was; hundreds of individuals gathered together on the dark bottom of the Loch. 

“Camille, can we stop?” He shouted. 

Almost immediately, the boat slowed. 

“What is it? Oh, Merlin’s beard!” 

Credence blinked his eyes, and the day-lit world flooded back. 

“What is it?” He asked, concerned. Camille was staring at him with a blank expression. 

“We’re you...looking somewhere else?” She asked tentatively. 

“Yes,” Credence didn’t know how else to answer. “At the bottom of the lake, just under us. There is a gathering of… something.”

“Ah. I see,” Camille murmured. Credence did not like the way she looked at him sidelong at all.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Your eyes, when you opened them. They were- white. Pure white. It just startled me,” Camille shook her head sharply.

“I didn’t know they did that.” Credence ran his fingers absently around his eyes. “Sorry I-“

“Nope!” Camille reaches across the space that separated them and squeezed his knee. “I am the one who’s sorry. So, what’d you see? Under there?” Credence relaxed. Her willingness to touch him, and to ignore the strangeness that had sprung up between them was comforting. 

“It’s not really seeing, as such. I guess I sort of… sense energy. I need it, to- to do magic. To hold my form. So, after- after I became the way I am, I suppose it makes sense that I can sense the presence of what I need to survive.”

“Energy? Magical energy?” 

“Yes,”

“Do you- I suppose you haven’t… I mean have you-“

“Oh!” Credence suddenly caught onto what was bothering her. “No.  _ No.  _ I don’t just… go around stealing peoples’ essence.”

“No of course not.” Despite her words, Camille looked relieved. Credence reminded himself firmly that it wasn’t her fault she was worried, that he would be worried too, in her stead. 

“It took ages for Newt to convince me that it was ok to, and he was he was willing.” He said quietly. “I hate having to.”

Camille stared at him hard a moment, then seemed to soften. 

“Thank the gods you are who you are, ducks. Your powers in the wrong person would be truly terrifying. Merlin’s beard, but I’m the rudest beast imaginable. I asked you out here because of your abilities then I come across all strange when you use them.” 

Credence didn’t know how to respond to that, so he settled for staring down at Camille’s hand in his knee. 

“Well, now that I’ve done a brilliant job of ruining the mood, let me ruin it some more,” 

Camille gave his knee a squeeze, then turned to a small pouch credence hadn’t noticed. From it, she pulled a long, sheathed knife. 

“Probably what you’re seeing, or sensing down there are merpeople.” Camille said frowning. “They don’t like us coming down there, and-“

“Uhm, I’d rather not,” Credence interrupted, pushing the knife away. “I mean, maybe they don’t like us coming down there because we come with weapons.” He shook his head as Camille started to protest. “Honestly, there are hundreds down there anyway, I think. I don’t know what you think I’m going to do with that knife. Ask them to maybe line up and let me walk down the line, stabbing?” 

Camille blinked, and then put the knife back in its bag. 

“Well, when you say it like that it makes perfect sense, but I don’t like it.” She grumped. “Now about breathing underwater-“ Camille started, reaching back into her bag. 

“Um, don’t worry about that. I-“ he thought about her earlier reaction and stumbled. “I know a spell for that. Only works underwater, though,” he added lamely, staring at his feet. 

“You’re a terrible liar, my dear,” Camille laughed. But if you say you have it handled, I believe you. Don’t care how. Alright, then, time to go. This is actually about where I lost Nessie’s trail before. I can’t believe that and the gathering of merpeople you’re sensing is a coincidence.”

Credence got awkwardly to his feet and toed off his shoes. Camille was busy digging around in the pouch, and he took advantage of her inattention to shrug his way out of his shirt, shimmy out of his trousers and position himself with his scar-covered back away from her, twisting awkwardly on the bench. 

“Here,” Camille said, and handed him a slim leather cylinder attached to leather straps. “It’s a sheath. For your wand. Strap it to your leg and you’ll have your hands free.” 

Credence did, adjusting the fit until it was snug around his thigh without being too tight. His wand fit perfectly- loose enough to be able to pull it out but tight enough that he didn’t have to worry about it falling out on its own. 

“Thanks. That’ll make things easier. It’d be hard to learn to swim otherwise.” 

Camille stared at him for a long moment. 

“You can’t swim?” 

“No. But I’m sure I can figure it out. How hard can it be?” 

“Gods above I must be mad, sending you to do this. You can’t possibly-“

“I can,” Credence said with significantly more confidence than he felt. “I might be a little slow at first but I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve read they can teach babies to swim.” 

Camille shuddered. 

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” she said. 

Credence grinned, remembering Newts response to his similar request, when he was about to pull the Nundu’s tooth. 

“I promise to _ try _ ,” he sidled over to the edge of the boat and stared at the gently lapping water. 

“I’ll be right here.” Camille said, and Credence knew he wasn’t imagining the shake on her voice. 

“I’ll find you,” He said. Carefully, he expelled his breath and then, abruptly jumped sideways over the gunwale. 

He splashed onto the water inelegantly, but before he could worry too much about that, he slid below the surface and had to concentrate all his thoughts on not breathing out of habit. 

The water was icy cold, but, though he could feel it, his muscles didn’t clench. Neither did his vision cloud as the water hit his eyes. He stilled his movements as he drifted slowly downwards, enjoying the feeling of inexplicable weightlessness. He kicked his legs experimentally and was rewarded by a slowing of his decent. 

Acting completely on instinct, he clawed his hands though the water, cupping them as he noted the resistance. It didn’t take much more flailing around to realize he could control the direction of his movement by pushing the water around him. Once he’d made that connection, he worked his way back up to the surface. He shook his hair back out of his eyes as he broke the surface and waved to Camille who was staring frantically over the side of the boat a hundred feet off. 

“Credence! Thank the gods. Are you alright?”

“Yes!” He immediately noticed how much easier it was to float after he had breathed in, and took a deeper breath, holding it in his lungs for a moment to test the effect. “I’ll be back.” He called, and sank beneath the waves once again, before Camille could protest. 

As he sank, he marveled at how the light shimmered through the water, illuminating his body in glowing patterns. The deeper he went, the fewer beams played across the pale canvas of his skin, until he had to shut his eyes and view the world through other senses. 

Immediately, he was aware of life all around him. As he sank slowly though the depths of the water, Camille’s familiar glow dulled, and the writhing mass of a school of fish darted and convulsed  in the water above him. 

Below, he was able to gain a better sense of the composition of the group of beings gathered at the floor of the Loch. There were many shapes moving slowly around each other. Their unique forms began to separate and solidify in his mind's eye. As he sank closer, he began to sense the faint outline of their bodies. They were certainly humanoid. He was coming down right on top of them. He moved slowly, scooping the water away from his body so that he changed the trajectory of his descent, aiming for the dark, empty space several hundred feet to the right of the school- or whatever a group of these beings could be called. He’d rather approach cautiously from the darkness than touch down on the Loch floor amidst them. 

Without warning, he was engulfed by vertigo. He thrashed out with his arms and kicked his feet as his mind was assailed by a silent cacophony like a hundred discordant trumpets. His sight dimmed as he jerked his body into a fetal position, pressing his hands uselessly against his ears while he struggled to keep his mouth shut against his own compulsion to scream. 

The silent barrage grew in intensity, and he writhed in pain, peripherally aware that his body had hit the bottom of the Loch and that he was scoring the silty floor with the tender skin of his knees and elbows as he flailed. Some part of his mind recognized the sound as animal. It reminded him of the howl of an angry or wounded dog. 

“ _ Please-“ _ he called silently “ _ please stop. I only want to help...I only-“ _

Abruptly the sound dwindled, petering off onto a soft, whimpering semblance of itself and Credence lay twitching in the frozen darkness, struggling to orient himself. The pressure of the water pressing against him made the pull of gravity doubtful- and for a panicked moment he thought he’d never be able to find “up” again. 

But as his mind continued to recover, he became aware of the densely packed strata if the ground beneath his knees, and realized that he was kneeling. He reached spastically for his wand and slumped in relief as his fingers closed around the smooth wood, which inexplicably seemed to warm to his touch. 

Still mindful of the melancholic groans that seemed to echo at the base of his skull, he cast out once again with his senses and was alarmed to see three figures rapidly approaching glowing forms. Sensing their energy gave him he ability to track their approach, but he wanted more detail, wanted to know what they looked like. He thought it would be impossible in the total darkness, but slowly, their forms began to fill out with detail, as though some phantom hand captured their features in drawn lines of glowing ink. 

What he “saw” did not give him much comfort. Bulging eyes protruded from flat, fish-like faces ruffed in gills or fins. Wiry strong-looking arms and legs ended in webbed hands adorned with long, sharp talons.

Instinctively, Credence hunched over, averting his face and trying to make himself appear as small and non-threatening as possible. He sensed them stop a few feet away from them and after a moment got a sharp prod. From what he could tell, it was the butt-end if a stick or something similar.

Not knowing what else to do, he spread his hands in front of him, indicating he was unarmed. The noise inside his head became louder. Credence strained to “hear” it more clearly. He was’t sure why but he was positive it did not emanate from the creatures in front of him. Hadn’t Camille said that Nessie called to her when she rose? Could this be the same thing? He focused hard in the sound and ignored a second prod. 

“ _ I’m here to help you- _ “ he thought the words and slowly and clearly as possible, freighting his intent on them as though he was trying to cast a spell. Inadvertently, he thought of Newt, and of Camille, and strangely of Tina, as she’d knelt beside him in that horrible house he had never called a home. 

He jerked as his hands were grasped, but the grip of the creatures in front of him was gentle, their pull guiding rather than compelling. Credence followed them blindly, driven by sudden urgency- a compulsion that stemmed from what he could only think of as the presence in his head. 

His guides emitted a piercing warble and the glowing mass of merpeople parted in front of him. He became aware of a second shape- the dim and fading glimmer of an outline. At first, the shape made no sense to him but then he realized that he was only seeing part of the vast, massive animal which had been concealed by the horde of merpeople. 

“ _ Nessie?”  _ He stretched out his hands and felt rough, wrinkled skin. He strained his senses, trying hard to pierce the utter darkness, but to no avail. All he could clearly see were the brilliantly glowing merpeople. 

He grooed blindly along the hide of the great beast, feeling the glacial rise and fall of its rhythmic breathing, and once and a while, the huge pound of its slowly beating heart. He wished it was brighter, knowing his ability to help fix whatever was wrong would be severely hampered unless he could see. He looked around at the mer people. They seemed to be hanging back, away from him, waiting to see what he’d do.  _ They _ seemed to have no problem seeing in the darkness. 

_ “Oh well”  _ he thought.  _ “Nothing for it. But I doubt you all are going to like this very much…”  _

Slowly, Credence backed away from the giant bulk of animal in front of him and slid his hand over his wand. He began to pull it free from its sheath when the merpeople attacked. 

They moved so fast he didn’t have time to react and before he knew what was happening, he was pinned to the lake floor, the tips of several sharp spear digging into the skin of this chest, belly and throat. He froze.

_ “I can’t help you if I can’t see!”  _ He cried out silently. “ _ I don’t want to hurt anyone!”  _

RELEASE

The tone in his head abruptly gained form- it felt as though the word curled though his mind like smoke.

There was a flurry of movement from the merpeople and they backed away from him, making making way for a tall female- at least Credence assumed she was a female. 

She stood over him, drifts of seaweed flowing away from her hips in a sort of skirt. None of the other met people were clothed, Credence realized. She stood above him, almost straddling his legs and peered  down at him, blinking gargantuan eyes. 

She reached her clawed hand down toward him. After a moment, he reached up and took it, and was hauled to his feet to strongly that he floated up though he water before settling. The wand was thrust back into his hand, and at the same time, he felt the razor’s edge of a blade at the back of his neck. The message was clear. 

He held the wand aloft and thought very clearly. 

“ _ Lumos Solem!” The tip of the wand began to glow faintly, then more and more brightly as he poured power into it. He stabbed upwards and the bright globe of blue light rose above him, illuminating the merpeople and the massive prone hulk of Nessie’s body.  _

Credence slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from retching at the awful sight before him. Nessie’s oblong, tapered head lay half buried in the sand, her long neck twisting at a painful looking angle against the ground. 

The huge bulk of her rounded body was heaved over in its side, pierced through with a giant shaft of smooth stone. It looked as though she had somehow fallen from a height and landed on the spear-shaped rock. 

Credence rushed forward, fighting the pull of he water and gently ran his fingers along the seam of hide and stone. THe wound had been packed with seaweed and mud, and it was hot and puffy with infection. 

He looked wildly around at the merpeople who stood with bowed heads and felt a flash of rage. Had they done this to-

NO

Though Nessie didn’t move, or show any sign of reaction, Credence was positive the thought came from her. Her voice was clearer, sharper and definitely feminine. It echoed around his head. 

_ Then what…. _

He rested his head against the coarse hide of Nessie’s side and was subsumed by a rush of visions and sensations.

_ The slow, gentle slide of life, the inimitable rhythm of days ordered by the cycles of invisible celestial bodies  seeped through his consciousness the same way it moved around him as he swam ageless circles though the dark, underwater domain. _

_ A tension grew, a need, an imperative that demanded a response, and he headed for cover, a massive cave used only once before, and dug down into the embrace of the Loch floor.  _

_ More time passed in a liquid dream, and a burst of pain gave way to a flash of new life, and he was no longer alone, having now the company of a small one, a child, a baby which ignited a bright spark of joy and light in the grey unchanging world. He saw the young one flit about, playing pranks on the merpeople who adored it and came to play more often and everything was good and bright again in a way it hadn’t been in centuries.  _

_ There was a flash of panic- a loss of connection, and a violent, severe reaction. Rage and horror flooded him as he realized what had happened, and caught the hapless straggler of the pack that had stolen his joy. Pain- pain that transcended the physical, that bloomed through the heart of him as he realized he was trapped, powerless to help his offspring- powerless to help himself- _

Credence jerked away, convulsing and fighting hard against the urge to retch. The merwoman behind him laid strong hands on his shoulders and turned him to face her. He saw his horror and pain reflected in her alien eyes and collapsed against her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him steady until he stopped shaking. Nessie’s ordeal was fading from his mind and his own thoughts and feelings were surfacing. 

Paramount was a desperation to ease the terrible pain the great beast was in. He had no sense of time from her visions, but she could not have lasted very long, even with the merpeople feeding her, which they must have done. 

He slid away from the merwoman and turned back to Nessie, taking in the shaft of rock limned in the cold werelight he had cast. As he studied it, he realized that it was not just shaped similarly to a spear. It was a spear, conjured from the bedrock, complete with a cruel quill at the end that kept Nessie from lifting herself off it. 

He tamped down on his rage and tried to think of an appropriate spell. Bombarda would certainly break up the shaft of rock, but would surely kill Nessie on the process. Reducto might be better, but was still likely too violent. Credence gritted his teeth in frustration. He simply didn’t  _ know _ enough. He’d have to forego spell casting and rely on his innate ability to do at least part of what he had in mind. 

He pushed up off the ground and sculled his way clumsily over to the torso-sized barb that pierced into Nessie’s shoulder, holding her immobile. As he ran his hands over it, he could sense the merpeople gathering behind him, watching warily. 

He shut his eyes and felt deep into the stone. He could sense it’s shape and form, the density if it under his palms. He focused harder and imagined he could feel all the tiny, miniscule pieces that pressed against each other to form the smooth stone. He imagines the material that blind those pieces loosening, dissipating. There was a water-muffled snap and the huge chunk of rock fell away from Nesssie’s body. Had she been in better shape, she’d have been able to lift herself right off the spear shaft. 

But she was so far gone, she barely recognized the change in her circumstance. Which was good, Credence realized. The shaft of stone itself was staunching the wound, blocking the flow of blood. 

Realizing that took the wind out of his sails. He had planned to levitate her off the rock and then heal the wound, but he was now positive that she would bleed out if she tried. 

He nervously stroked his hands over her hide and tried to assess how much strength he had left. It was impossible to tell, but he wasn’t hopeful. His spellcasting through the day has drained him and he hadn’t thought to to reenergize himself. He ground his teeth. It didn’t matter. 

He had to try. Humans had done this horrible thing- and wizards as well, he was sure of it. As one of them it was up to him to redress the balance, regardless of cost. 

With one hand in the stub of stone still impaling her, and the other resting in her body, he closed his eyes and began. Things got confused as he tried to figure out how to heal the huge, gaping puncture as he dissolved the rock until, frustrated and worried about expending his waning energy in fruitless ways, he just focused on the effect he wanted. He wanted the stone gone, and the flesh healed. That was all. Stone gone, injury closed. 

Merpeople jetted away from them, covering their eyes as light pierced the water, surging outward in waves from beneath Credence’s hands. 

Nessie jerked and roared in pain and he grit his teeth and leaned into her, trying to take some of that pain into himself. The magic writhing beneath his his hands made it all possible and he felt salty tears flow into the fresh water. He struggled to maintain contact with Nessie as agony ripped through him. It was easy to imagine the cold heart of the stone piercing through his stomach; it felt as though it actually was- as real as anything. But through the haze, he felt Nessie still and relax, and grounded himself and continued.  

Pain was a part of life and one had to bear it in all its forms to come out clean on the other side. So, as Credence poured his energy into the shrinking wound, he bore the beast’s pain and did penance for the crimes of the wizards who had caused it. 

And, because he was helpless to stop it, he felt more than just her physical pain. He felt the loneliness and sadness of an interminable life spent on the dim depths, punctuated only by brief periods of joy during which she raised her young. He sensed his werelight dim, and he was rocked by a wave of dizzy exhaustion. At least It had become easier to manage the pain- there was hardly any left. The huge, gaping wound was almost closed, he could sense he dwindling heat of infection dissipating, and the stone was long gone. 

Contact broke with a jarring wrench as Nessie snaked her huge head around and nudged him away from her with her fluted snout. He was sure she intended to be gentle, but he was flung into water. The merwoman who had minded him was not far from him and she reached out to steady him.

Credence felt the familiar chill that had nothing to do with the water temperature and was dimly aware that he was having a hard time feeling the pressure of the water- the ever present force that had defined his time below. 

He realized he had possibly gone too far and reached instinctively towards the merwoman. There was no way to explain what he needed. He could not communicate directly with them- only with Nessie, whose connection with him was now a remote, feather-light thing. And yet the merwoman bent over him and placed her webbed hand on his forehead. 

He struggled briefly against the overwhelming urge to pull in the energy crackling against his skin before giving in and allowing a silken thread of power to drift into him. 

It was like a sip of water to a parched man, but he ruthlessly forced himself to cut off his connection after he had enough to fully coalesce once again. 

The merwoman did not look comfortable and he refused to take more ham he needed without the ability to explain what it was he was taking. He got to his knees and then to his feet, and then floated limply, suspended in the water, trying fruitlessly to regain his strength.

He felt rather than saw Nessie’s gaze on him, felt the feather touch of her thoughts. 

UP

The word echoed in his mind but he was powerless to comply, though all at once he yearned for light, and warmth, wished with all his heart to breach the surface of the water and feel air in his lungs. 

UP Nessie said again, clearly, and nudged him with her nose. He floated higher and before he could sink again, the Merpeople were there, surrounding him, grasping him and lifting him gently, but inexorably towards the surface. 

As they rose, and light began to penetrate the water they seemed less and less comfortable, slitting their huge eyes against the dim light as though it was bright sunlight. Before he could make a move to stop them, a vast, palpable shadow darkened the water below him. Nessie herself rose slowly under him. He leaned forward against her tree-trunk  neck and sighed, relaxing against her. As they ascended, the merpeople dropped away until only the merwoman dressed in glowing green accompanied him. She pressed a scrap of something into his hand before stroking his back lightly and departing. 

The water around Credence took on a bright amber color and he watched it wash over Nessie’s hide. She was a dark grey, dappled all over with green and blue. Wide fins protruded beneath her chest and a long, tapered tail trailed into the darkness below. 

_ “You are beautiful,” _ Credence thought drowsily. He was rewarded with a tingling ripple of laughter in his mind, a strange sensation reminiscent of silk dragged over skin. He shivered with pleasure and fingered the scrap of fabric in his hand, as her unable to see it but intensely curious about what it was. 

FROM THEM 

Anger and fear are freighted on the thought, cutting through him mercilessly. 

_ The ones that killed your child, _

_ NOT KILLED  _

Desperate hope tinged the darkness, and Credence felt a frisson of excitement. 

_ I will find her! _ He thought very, very clearly. He felt a shiver pass through Nessie’s body. He clutched the fabric in his fist. “ _ I will bring her back!” _

He felt a huge surge of energy crackle beneath his skin as Nessie broke the surface. She flung her head back and bulged,  a sharp, clarion call that echoed across the water. 

Credence skimmed the surface of her energy, strengthening himself,  as he gripped Nessie’s neck and banked with her in the water. Far in the distance, he saw the white sails of Camille’s boat unfurl and catch the rosy light of the setting sun. 

The return of his strength brought with it a fierce determination and simmering rage.

Nessie seemed to pick up his mood and bugled again, taking off across the water. She stretched her beautiful head forward and used her entire, flexing body to whip her long, leaf-shaped tail through the water. 

Credence was thrilled by the speed at which they traveled towards Camille. He swept his soaking hair away from his face and laughed, catching Nessie’s blooming hope and her joy at being free of pain and  _ moving  _  through their connection. Abruptly, she banked to the side, and he scrambled to stay in her back. He quickly realized why- the wake from her passage was big enough to cause serious problems for Camille, if she came too close to the approaching boat. 

Instead, she curved in a broad arc, describing a wide circle around Camille as she warbled a greeting. 

“Nessie, you great baggage, you had me worried!” Camille called. Credence shook his head as the confusing mix of Camille’s and Nessie’s emotions swirled through him. His connection with the beast was becoming unnervingly strong the longer he had contact with her.

Nessie slowed and sank into water, sidling slowly up to the side of the boat. Camille leaned over the gunwale and slapped at the great beast’s hide, grinning before offering Credence a hand. He hopped lightly into the boat.

“What happened?” Camille asked after looking him over briefly. 

Nessie made a plaintive sound and rolled over in the water, exposing the huge ridged scar that surrounded the puncture wound Credence had healed. In the daylight, on the surface, it looked even worse than it had by werelight. 

“Gods above what is  _ that?”  _

Credence shoved the piece of fabric at Camille. 

“This. These people. Nessie had a baby, and they  _ stole _ her.” He ground out. Camille stared at the fabric uncomprehendingly. It was soaked, and the colors in it were muted, but Credence recognized the distinctive pattern right away. 

“The circus. I saw an advertisement. Kate said they were here several weeks ago. One of them must have...conjured this giant spear from the ground. They impaled her on it, and stole her baby. I’m going to get her back!” 

“Merlin’s beard,” Camille wrung the fabric in her fists. “That’s- but- how did you…” She gestured vaguely at the wound. 

“I healed her by- it’s not important. We need to go back.” Credence felt himself bursting with the need to  _ do _ something. “I need to leave. I don’t know where they’re going, but when I find out I’m-”

“Paris,” Camille breathed. She met Credence’s gaze with ice chip eyes. “They were headed to Paris. And when the ministry hears about this-” 

“Then what? What does this ministry of yours care about a stolen baby  _ beast _ ?” Credence demanded, snatching the fabric out of Camille’s hands. “Newt told me- hell,  _ you _ told me they don’t  _ care. _ That’s why he’s writing his book. But  _ I _ care. And there’s more. Kate told me about a girl. A mala- a mala something or other. She’s changing into a snake. And they’re making her show it all off!” he shouted.

Camille backed quickly away from him, leaning up against the mast and staring at him with wide eyes. A tendril of shadow caught his eye and he jerked in surprise and then took a deep, steadying breath, trying to pull himself together.

“I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry.” He murmured, staring down at the twist of fabric in his hands. “I’m fine,” 

Camille regarded him for a long moment and Nessie warbled anxiously. 

“Alright,” Her voice was strained with fear, and Credence averted his eyes, ashamed of his outburst.

“Really- I’m sorry. You don’t have to- I’d never hurt you-“ he fumbled for the right words.. 

“But you want to hurt  _ them _ ,” Camille said quietly. 

“Yes,” Credence whispered. “Look what they  _ did-“ _

“And they should be brought to justice! But if you go rampaging through the world in a black blur of vengeance, we’ll all be right to fear you.” Camille said harshly.

Abruptly, all his pent up anger washed out of Credence in a massive tide, leaving him hollow with the certainty that Camille was absolutely right. 

“They’ll find a way to catch you- our people aren’t like the incompetent idiots at MACUSA.” She ground on. “You will be imprisoned, and god forbid there any others like you out there because they will be damned by your actions, forced into hiding or  bondage like the werewolves and the centaurs. You are the first sentient Obscurial in existence and you need to prove that your kind is more good than bad.” 

“How?” Credence asked. He felt the tears streaming down his face and couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“You’ve got a wand,” Camille said. Her tone was much gentler, and he risked a glance up. He was shocked to see her cheeks were wet as well, and she was gripping the mast so hard her knuckles were white. “Use it. We all do good, or bad, every day- but we do it the normal way. Never let anyone see your true nature, Credence. Ever. Not even friends. I mean, I know you, and I like you, and even I am terrified of what you might do. It’s not fair, laddie, but you always have to remain in control of yourself.”

Credence felt the words soak in, and recognized them as true. 

“You’re right,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes. The gesture somehow seemed to make Camille relax. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I can only try..” 

“Which is all any of us can do,” Camille leaned away from the mast. 

“I’m still going after them,” He murmured, twisting the fabric in his fingers. “I have to. I’ll try to get Nessie’s baby back- try to help. Maybe I can do it without hurting anyone.” 

“Good. I’ll have a friend lodge a formal complaint with the ministry. Like Newt said before, anyone willing to do the things you said they’ve done is probably guilty of other things as well.”

She turned and leaned over the gunwale to slap Nessie affectionately in the neck. 

“Don’t worry, mama, we have it all in hand.”

Credence felt the echo of a nebulous, anxious hopefulness and watched Nessie’s head slide below the the surface of the water.

He felt empty and shaken, unnerved at the speed with which he has quickened to the same fury that caused so much havoc before. He would have to learn to control his temper- to be more detached. 

“It’s hard,” Camille said. He blinked up at her, utterly unsurprised that she seemed to know exactly what was bothering him. “It’s hard when you care so much. I know, better than most. Let’s get back to the lodge.” 

She hesitated, then laid her hand gingerly on Credence’s shoulder. He sighed and leaned into her touch, relieved that he hadn’t ruined things between them completely. “I hope you’ll join me for dinner before you leave.  We have a lot to plan out before you leave.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
